Of Dreams that Frighten
by to-Melanie
Summary: Severus Snape died protecting Lily's son—or so he thought. He wakes up eleven again, confusing what was with what could be. Through his memories, which may or may not come to pass, he must work to change Fate before history as he remembers unfolds again. Pairing undecided. Please review, if you would.
1. Chapter the First

The last thing Severus ever saw were Lily's eyes. Though they were embedded in the face of the man he had hated and the boy he had sworn to protect, they were still her eyes, green as forest pools, green as jealousy. But jealousy was irrelevant now, because Severus could feel the world grow more distant. There was darkness creeping up around him, drawing him down deeply into its embrace. He let himself be borne away, and prayed that there could be such a thing as mercy for those like him.

Severus woke wide-eyed and frightened, trembling in the dark. His gaze slid wildly about the room, trying to determine where he was—he looked up and recognized the spider webbing of cracks on the ceiling. This was his room. _His_ room, from Spinner's End, the house where he had grown up.

It had only been a dream.

"Home," he whispered, the noise barely escaping his vocal chords, but his voice sounded strange to his own ears, tongue moving clumsily around his teeth. His mouth tasted of copper. He swallowed, but the cloying film didn't go away. Water. He needed water. With some effort, he untwisted himself from his thread-bare covers. But his attention fixed on the one quilt that wasn't shabby and worn.

He stared at it, for a second not remembering it. When he did, an unexpected emotion caught at his chest. Lily's mother had made it for him, had worked on it for the better part of a year. It had been a birthday gift. It was one of the most precious things he owned. He didn't know why, then, the sight of it made him feel bruised inside, tender. A single sentence floated through his mind. _I never meant for Lily to die._ "It was only a dream," he whispered. But even as the words crossed his lips, he remembered cradling Lily's body to his chest, weeping bitter tears into her ember-bright hair, prostrating himself in front of a man with half-moon glasses, a long white beard, and a look of utter sorrow. He remembered blackness burnt into his skin, a snake and a skull branded there forever.

Severus dropped the quilt on the bed and darted for the bathroom. Though he hurried, he trod lightly over the floor and was careful to be quiet with the door, because it wouldn't do to wake his father if the man was home yet. That would be a lashing or a lecture, depending on his degree of drunkenness. If he woke his mother—well, that would be even worse.

Severus made it to the bathroom and flipped on the light, praying that it would work. The wiring in Spinners' End was unreliable at best and outright dangerous at worst. He had wondered, sometimes, if it was because of his magic, if his magic might have leaked over and tweaked the flow of electricity. But Lily had told him that her lights always worked, so Severus attributed it to lazy electricians. After a few moments and much indecision, the light flickered on, and Severus turned toward the grimy mirror, frightened by what he might see. He came nose-to-nose with his own reflection, sallow-faced and too skinny, lank-haired and hungry-eyed. The knots in his belly loosed and he grinned in purely reflexive relief, even though his reflection was nothing to smile at.

But at least this reflection was still that of a child and not that of a haggard, tight-lipped man who seemed as though he couldn't remember how to laugh.

"It was only a dream," he murmured, watching his reflection's mouth shape the words. "It was only a dream, it was only a dream." Maybe if he said it enough, he could forget the aching intensity and raw heartbreak that he remembered now, that he hadn't known before he'd gone to sleep the night before.

"Severus? What are you doing up this early?"

Severus flinched and turned around slowly. "I didn't mean to wake you up, Mum. I'm sorry."

Eileen Prince was not a beautiful woman on the best of days. Her face was long, her hair was a lackluster brown, and her mouth was perpetually set in a sulky look, even when she was laughing. She was especially not attractive now, having just gotten up from bed. But though she had dark circles carved under her eyes, a ratty old shawl wrapped about her shoulders, and bare, knobby-toed feet, when she smiled a tired smile at Severus, he felt as though everything could be right in the world.

"It's not so early for me, love. It's nearly five. But why are you awake?"

Severus rubbed his arms and glanced away. It had been one thing to run to his mother when he was a child. But he was eleven now, and to tell her that he had had a _nightmare_? His masculine pride couldn't allow it. "I drank too much water last night."

His mother arched an eyebrow. "Strange, then, that I didn't hear a flush," she observed. "And when I came in here, you were looking in the mirror."

He had never been able to lie to his mum. He cast his gaze at the floor, trying to think of something to say. She rescued him from his all-too-obvious thoughts of diversions, gently touching him on the shoulder. "I'm going to get dressed for work and make tea. And then you can tell me what has you so wound up."

Severus made the tea. He sat at the kitchen table and imagined creatures out of the scratches on the surface. There were a lot of scratches—almost to the extent that the entire tabletop was one big scratch—and so there were a lot of creatures that he could imagine. But then his mother came downstairs in her work uniform and he had to cease imagining for the time being. She cradled her mug in one hand and reached across the table for one of his with the other. "So what's this about then?"  
Severus hesitated. Relented. Hesitated again. But his mother surely wouldn't make fun of him, especially not if he didn't call it a _nightmare_. "I had a dream."

Eileen waited.

Severus drew in a shaky breath, and his grip on his mother's hand became tighter. "It started with the train ride to Hogwarts. It—the train—it looked exactly like you'd told me, all red and gold, with the lettering on the side. We went with the Evanses in their car because you'd received notice that the Floo system at the station was going to be down for repairs. Lily and you and I sat in the back. Petunia didn't come, even though Mrs. Evans wanted her to.

And then we got to the station, and went to Platform 9 ¾. Lily caught her jumper on something and ripped it near the hem. She was upset but you told her the house elves would fix it for her. Then we said goodbye and got on the train."

Severus didn't know why he was telling his mother every little detail. Normally he prided himself on his concise storytelling, but there had been a weight to this dream that he wasn't comfortable carrying by himself. Normally, he would have told Lily instead of his mother, because his mum already had too much to think about, working two jobs to counteract her husband's worthlessness. But Lily was too central to the plot of the story to tell, and she might pick up on the fact that Severus' dream-self had been so desperately in love with her that he had died in order to redeem himself to his memory of her.

He drew a breath and continued. "A few hours into the train ride, these two boys came into the compartment with us. One of them had ridiculous puffy hair and glasses, and the other was wearing a shirt with a band name on it. They'd come in to talk with Lily, not me, but I got into the conversation anyhow when they mentioned Houses. They both wanted to be in Gryffindor, like Lily. They were all really excited about it. But then the boy with the glasses asked me what House I wanted, and I said Slytherin. And—he just got angry. He tried to convince me that only evil people went to Slytherin. I got mad and insulted him, and we started yelling at each other so loud that one of the prefects made them go back to their own compartment.

When we finally made it to Hogwarts, we didn't take carriages like you said. We went on boats across the lake. One boy almost fell in. Then we were all put in a corridor waiting.

Lily was Sorted into Gryffindor with the two boys from the train. I went to Slytherin. After that, I didn't really have Lily anymore, except for a few classes and some study times, and those boys became my enemies."

Severus swallowed and looked down at the table. "I started to hate Hogwarts because of them. And there was a Dark Lord coming to power. Lily abandoned me, and I joined him. Lily married one of my enemies and had a son. She died because of information I had given to the Dark Lord." His breath was getting faster. "There was a prophecy—her son was the only one who could defeat the Dark Lord. I swore allegiance to Dumbledore and took the Potions position at Hogwarts to keep her son safe, because I owed that to Lily. Then I saved him several times and I made him hate me, and then I died protecting him."

"Oh, Severus." His mum stroked the pad of her thumb across his knuckles.

"No, but there's more, Mum. It was like it actually happened. That's why I was looking in the mirror, to make sure that I was still _me_."

He looked up to see her studying him. "It was probably just a dream," she finally said. "The Princes never had strong Seer blood." She squeezed his hand and let him go, getting up from the table. "Are you anxious about going to Hogwarts? It's in a week, that might be why."

" _No_ ," Severus snapped, and immediately felt awful. "Sorry, but, it's just, it didn't feel like a dream. I know what dreams feel like."

Eileen nodded. "We'll have to wait and see, then. We do need to go to Diagon Alley soon, for your supplies. Maybe Saturday…" She trailed off, slipping her wand from her sleeve. An apple floated over Severus' head. " _Tempus_ ," Eileen said firmly, and glanced at the numbers that drew themselves in thin air. "Severus, I've got to run. Your father came in a few hours ago, you won't want to be in the house when he wakes."

Severus nodded. It was the natural progression of things—Tobias Snape gets drunk, Tobias Snape sleeps it off, Tobias Snape takes out his hangover on any bystanders. "I'll stay at Lily's house," he promised, then paused. "Or maybe I'll stay at the library."

Eileen kissed his forehead, handed him an apple, and ushered him up the stairs to get dressed. When he came down, she had taken the Floo to her job cooking breakfast at a popular wizarding café, after which she would change into her robes and act as the secretary of a small, struggling wizarding legal firm.

Severus finished his apple and slipped out the front door, not bothering to lock it; they had nothing of value. He would go to the library today, he decided. Maybe he could bury himself in the smell of ink and paper and forget about the memories that weren't his but that were pervading every crevice, every nook and cranny of his mind. Maybe he could forget about them for a little while, and then maybe he could pass them off as nothing more than the figment of an overactive imagination.

It was worth a shot.


	2. Chapter the Second

They did go to Diagon Alley on Saturday. Eileen had managed to jigger her work schedule to get a half-day off, so she roused Severus at the ungodly hour of five o'clock, ignoring his grumbled complaints. "Is anything even _open_ this early in the morning?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes. He kept his volume low because his father was upstairs sleeping off yet another hangover.

"Gringotts is open at all hours of the day," Eileen replied, attacking her son's collar and trying to make it lie as it was supposed to. They were both dressed in their nicer clothes, which meant only that they fit approximately to their bodies and had a conspicuous absence of mending. "That visit will take about an hour, and the rest of the shops open at seven. We'll want to get in and get out as quickly as possible."

There were many things that Severus could have said in response to that. He could have asked if his mother was ashamed to be seen with her half-blood son, if she was ashamed to be seen herself by the members of the society that she had fallen from. He even could have asked if she was all right, because he'd heard yelling late last night, and this morning she had a patch of concealer carefully applied around her eye. But he didn't, because he knew what she would say. _Of course I'm not ashamed of you, Severus. Of course I don't care what they think. Of course I'm all right. Your father just gets too excited sometimes, that's all._

Severus was no fool. He knew that she was trying to protect him from reality. But he heard her crying in her bedroom when she thought he was asleep. He had noticed her give her food to him in the times when his father had been accumulating debts of the sort that they couldn't buy groceries. Two years ago, when they were so far behind on the mortgage that they were going to lose the house, Eileen had come home with wide, dry eyes, a bare spot on her finger where her ring had been, a gift from her father before things had soured between them. Severus saw it but didn't comment, because he knew his mother worked so very hard to keep him oblivious, and if she knew she had failed it would be no fault but his own.

These were heavy thoughts for an eleven-year-old, so he thrust them away and followed his mother to the fireplace. In the earliest year of her marriage, before things went to an alcohol-flavored hell, one of Eileen's stipulations had been a connection to the Floo network, as most wizarding families had. It had been her most decisive victory in her entire marriage. She dug in a drawer and found the powder, tossing a pinch on the fire and gesturing Severus forward. He took a breath and made sure to enunciate clearly as he spoke. Floo accidents were few and far-between, but people who mumbled were disproportionately victims of unintended destinations. Severus did not want to start his day like that if he could help it. The flames turned green and he stepped through.

Moments later and miles away, he was quite proud that he didn't crumple to his knees and vomit like he wanted to. Instead he staggered away from the mantle unsteadily, clutching at his stomach. In the next instance his mother was at his side, steadying him, laying a cool, callused hand at the back of his neck. Until their magic matured, children tended to experience side effects when traveling by Floo, and Severus was no exception.

After a few heartbeats, Severus was able to straighten up and look around. The Leaky Cauldron was not terribly impressive, as first impressions go. The only person there other than themselves was the man behind the counter, polishing some glasses with a dishcloth.

"'Lo, Tom," Eileen called over her shoulder, steering Severus towards the door. Tom nodded back silently, not looking up from his work. Outside, Diagon Alley was lit mainly by streetlight and by the individual lanterns mounted beside shops' doorways, though there was the odd window already lit from within, a rectangle of warmth spilling onto the sidewalk. Eileen walked with purpose, turning corners without hesitation. Severus trailed behind her, wondering what the Alley looked like normally, filled with people and parcels. They passed by a used bookstore, and he worked hard not to salivate too visibly. His mother had told him about the four Houses of Hogwarts, though she hadn't gone into the specifics of the Sorting Ceremony. She had been a Slytherin, but she suspected Severus would be a Ravenclaw on account of his love for books. Severus hadn't bothered to correct her. He recognized that knowledge was useful only when applied correctly—Slytherin to the core.

Then he remembered a dream he had had, venomous accusations from a puffy-haired bespectacled boy passing through his mind. He fought off a shiver and ran to catch up with his mother. They climbed the stairs together, passing by the goblin at the doors. Inside Gringotts, which was almost as empty as the Leaky Cauldron had been, his mother had a quiet discussion with the teller and turned to him. "Wait here."

"Can't I come with you?" he asked, stung, and then he realized. His mother didn't want him to see how little she had in her vault. "I'll wait."

He saw the tension in her shoulders decease significantly. "I shouldn't be too long. Keep out of trouble. Don't move from that bench, and keep quiet." She disappeared into another corridor at the heels of yet another goblin.

Boredom and Severus did not go well together, and fifteen minutes of sitting on an uncushioned wooden bench staring at the ceiling proved to be too much. He debated asking the teller for some sort of reading material, like a blank contract. He'd never had the chance to dissect legalese, much less that of the Goblin variety, and if he didn't do something soon, his brain was going to liquefy and dribble out his ears. He held on for five more minutes, and gave in.

The teller looked at him skeptically. "Why would you wish to read a contract?"

Severus shrugged. "Practice. I'm only eleven, so I can't fill out anything and have it be binding, but I thought it might be a good idea to get used to the formatting and the language of the documents."

The goblin looked approving, if a goblin ever looked approvingly at a human. "Indeed," he said, passing an inch of papers bound with gold thread over the counter. "Return this to me before you leave."

Severus almost staggered under the weight of the papers, but made it back to his seat. He began dissecting the contract, which had something to do with the acquisition of goods gained from conquest from a wizard fighting on behalf of a warlord sometime in the twelfth century. At first, the contract seemed as though it heavily favored the wizard, but, while reading the fine print, Severus discovered a multitude of requirements that made his head spin. The warlord received a tenth of the flat bounty from any job, but then he also received jewels that reflected purple light (but only on Tuesdays), goblets with a circumference of no greater than 14 inches (but only if they had three handles), bracelets that had some sort of owl emblem (but only if they did not have a clasp)…the list of technicalities went on for pages and pages. But the very last thing that the warlock demanded was the entire haul of enchanted artefacts, with no exceptions.

It was all very cleverly, densely worded, but Severus thought that it must have been successful through length alone; few people would want to wade through pages upon pages of nonsensical requirements. He stood and returned the contract to the teller just before his mother returned, pale and resolute. He barely managed to nod his thanks before she hustled him out the door. "Are you all right?" he asked cautiously.

She grimaced. "It's those carts the goblins use. I've never gotten used to them."

Severus did not regret missing the cart ride. Among other things, such as his unfortunate nose and his long, spidery hands, he had inherited his mother's propensity for motion sickness. "Where are we going?" he asked.

She pointed ahead. "Ollivanders. I thought we might get your wand first."

Severus wanted to protest. Wands were expensive, and wands from Ollivanders even more so. Eileen saw his look. "Severus, don't fight me on this. You need a good wand if you want to be successful at all. We can compromise on the quality of other things, but not on this." She spoke in a whisper; Diagon Alley was slowly coming to life. Shopkeepers were throwing open their doors, sweeping off their slivers of sidewalk, setting up some of their wares outside. There was beginning to be foot traffic.

Severus wanted to argue, but he looked at the lines around his mother's mouth, the circles around her eyes, the bruise that Muggle concealer couldn't fully hide. So instead he nodded, and they entered Ollivanders together. At first the shop appeared empty, but suddenly a man whom Severus presumed to be Ollivander sprang out from behind the shelves.

"Good day, good day," he said to Severus, speaking very rapidly. "Here to be fitted for a wand, are you?" He seemed to notice Eileen for the first time. "Eileen Prince, if I remember correctly. Yes, that's right. Black walnut and unicorn hair, ten and three-quarter inches. Rather bendy, I recall. Well-attuned to inner conflict."

Eileen smiled tightly at Ollivander. "That's right, but I'm Eileen Snape now. We're here for a wand for Severus."

"Indeed, indeed," Ollivander murmured, scrutinizing Severus carefully. He plucked a box from the pile behind him and thrust it at Severus. "Elm and unicorn hair, nine inches. Give it a wave."

As soon as Severus took it out, Ollivander snatched it back. "No good, no good." He dug out another box. "Dogwood and phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches." Severus had barely gotten the box open before Ollivander wanted him to try another.

Soon it seemed as though he would have to try every wand in the store. Strangely, Ollivander seemed to become more cheerful as more wands rejected him. "You're a strange one, aren't you? Very good, very good. Most people only try two or three boxes—try this." He passed Severus a wand of cypress and dragon heartstring. Rejection.

Finally, Ollivander stopped and gazed thoughtfully at Severus. "I think I know what you need," he said, and disappeared into the back of the store. He reappeared holding yet another box. "I made this years ago. Birch and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches even. Birch wands are very particular about who they pair with, you see, so I only have three of them in stock. Good for spellwork of all types, but particularly things that require precision." He offered the wand to Severus.

Severus closed his fingers over the smooth, cool wood and immediately felt a tingle that he hadn't with any of the other wands. He waved it, and he _felt_ his magic responding, traveling down his arms and through his fingertips. The wand's tip exploded in sparks.

Ollivander practically beamed. "As I thought." He grew more serious. "Few carry birch wands," he said, "but those who do are stubborn. They often have strong personalities and care little for the opinions of others. They are very selective with their loyalty, but once it is earned it is kept unto death." He caught Severus' free hand and stared into his face. "Remember that, child, and be careful to whom you give your heart."

Severus had goosebumps, and not only because there was a draft. He remembered his dream, of staring into emerald eyes as the dark overtook him, and shivered while the adults discussed payment over his head. _Be careful to whom you give your heart._

 **A/N—Hello, my ducklings. I just wanted to clear a few things up. First, some of you might have noticed that I mentioned 'miles' when talking about distance. My headcanon is that the British wizarding world uses the Imperial System instead of the Metric System because the Imperial System is far less consistent and makes a lot less sense. It's like their monetary system. Why use nice round numbers when you could simply confuse the hell out of everyone?**

 **Also, the birch from Severus' wand is valued in Celtic mythology as bringing about new beginnings, purification, and service. According to the Harry Potter Wiki, dragon heartstring is the most powerful and also the easiest to turn to Dark Arts. It bonds very strongly with its owner.**

 **I will admit, this was mostly a fluff chapter. Don't worry, things will pick up starting in the next one. Thanks for reading, and even greater thanks for my reviewers. You are my most favoritest people ever.**

 **With love, to-Melanie**


	3. Chapter the Third

Severus' life had become a countdown. Four days until Hogwarts, three days until Hogwarts. But two days before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to stop at Platform 9 ¾, his shield of perpetual denial shattered once again.

Severus had packed his shabby old things into his mother's shabby old trunk, had said goodbye to the people he saw regularly (mostly the librarians), and had mentally prepared himself for nine months of separation from his mother. Sitting at the kitchen table trying to read _Hogwarts: A History_ and trying to ignore the ever-present squirm of excitement in his stomach, he saw a letter shoot out of the Floo. He picked it up and turned it over curiously. It had a bright maroon return address stamped in the upper corner, but no mailing address. "Mum, can I open it?" Eileen, sitting with her mending at the kitchen table, made an absent noise which Severus took as consent, so he slid his thumb under the envelope flap and peeled it open.

When he read the letter, he wished he hadn't. He stared in mute horror at the text, a public service announcement that the wizarding Floo at the train station would be down for repairs for the next week. Students returning to Hogwarts were advised to find some other method of transportation to Platform 9 ¾. His face felt numb. When he tried to swallow, he couldn't. "Mum," he croaked hoarsely, holding out the letter.

She lunged for it, obviously expecting bad news. She read it twice, scanning the paragraphs rapidly, before she exhaled a long breath and looked up at Severus. "It just means that we'll have to go with the Evanses in their car, love. It's nothing to worry about."

Severus stared blankly at her. "It came true," he said. "That means that everything else will come true too. I'm going to kill Lily."

He could tell that his mother did not at first understand what he was saying, because when she did realize, all of the color drained from her lips. Her fingers tightened on the letter, crinkling it. "Are you sure that this was as you dreamed it?" He didn't answer; from her expression, he knew that she remembered exactly what he had told her that early morning. "Oh, _Severus_."

They sat there in silence. Severus was contemplating moving to the States, because if he wasn't near Lily, he couldn't hurt her, and he hadn't ever left Britain in the dream—

Eileen took a deep breath and gripped his hand. "It could be coincidence. What happened next?"

"We went with the Evanses in their car. Petunia stayed behind. She and Mrs. Evans had a huge row about it. We sat in the back with Lily. Lily ripped her jumper getting on the train. You told her that the house elves would fix it. When we were on the train, two boys came into our compartment to talk to Lily. They wanted to be in Gryffindor, like her, and they didn't like that I wanted to be a Slytherin. One of them had glasses and the other had a band shirt," Severus recited dully. "Should I go on?"

He didn't have to think about the details of his dream. They were branded into his mind. He remembered everything from the way the leather seats in the Evanses' car had creaked when he shifted his weight to the way that his own body had locked into death throes. He had read books on the human brain: it filled in details that were missing, but Severus doubted that it could fix up a dream so thoroughly on a rush order. There had been things that he had never before heard about: the Chamber of Secrets, horcruxes, Sectumsempra. And furthermore, he distinctly remembered having created Sectumsempra himself. He had created a spell to kill.

And kill it almost had, he remembered. Lily's son in a bathroom with water on the floor; a boy with white hair stained red. Defiance. Why had he created such a thing? How often had he used it to kill? He was afraid to look into the dream for answers.

"Severus? Severus?" Eileen waved a hand in front of her son's face and he started. She put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed perhaps more tightly than was comfortable. "Severus, you are one of the most responsible children that I have ever met. You shouldn't have to be—"and here her voice cracked a little bit—"but you are. I trust you. I trust that you're not lying to me. When you go on the train on Wednesday, I want you to take note of what's happening. If it really was just a dream, tell me, and I'm sure we'll both sleep better at night. But if it does happen as you dreamed it—"here she swallowed—"we need to tell someone."

"But who?" Severus asked plaintively. "What could anyone do to—"

And then he remembered an old man with kind, twinkling eyes. "I'll go to Headmaster Dumbledore," he said without the barest hint of hesitation. The old man had always been kind to him, even after what he had done—Severus shook his head sharply. No. He hadn't done anything yet, and he was going to make sure that he never would.

Eileen hesitated. "I'm not sure that's wise, love. What could the Headmaster do?"

"Everything," Severus replied. "There's a war coming, you know. He knows it. He won't believe me at first, but I'll be able to prove it to him. He'll have to take me seriously, because he's not the sort to think I fabricated everything to gain his trust." He didn't mention that he was planning on letting Dumbledore poke around in his mind, if he needed to.

His mother looked alarmed. "Severus, what do you mean? There's no war coming."

"But there is, Mum," Severus replied softly. "It's coming. I want what I saw to be a dream more than anything, but I know that it's not. I know things that I shouldn't, and I remember people that I've never met. Either I'm going crazy or I saw the future."

Eileen bowed her head. "The Princes never had strong Seer blood, Severus. At most, they could predict things with more accuracy than most other people. That passed me by, I think." The last part she said quietly. "Magic is passed down through bloodlines. You couldn't have gotten it from me, it just doesn't work that way. So there are only two other options. Either your father is a Squib or descended from a Squib from a family with a history of strong Seers, or you developed the ability independently. It's most likely that your father is the reason, but magic does strange things in the name of love."

Severus was baffled. "Love?"

"Everything that you told me happened in your dream had Lily at the middle of it. You love Lily. She was the first friend you ever had, even if the two of you did get off to a rocky start. Your motivation in the dream was to protect her, and, when that failed, to protect her son in her memory. It could be that, sensing what would cause you pain and lead you on a path to ruin, your magic sent you a warning. And that might be the end of it."

"Either way," Severus said stubbornly, "I saw the future."

"Perhaps you did or perhaps you didn't. Perhaps you only saw what might have happened without the warning. Perhaps now that you know there is a danger, the danger will have passed." Eileen leaned forward and cupped her son's face in her work-roughened hands. "We won't know until you go to Hogwarts, love. If you speak to Headmaster Dumbledore, I want to be there. Send me an owl." She kissed his forehead and picked up her mending again.

Severus' brain was buzzing with all of the possibilities. He had to plan. He had to make plans, and he had to make contingency plans, and then he had to make contingency plans for his contingency plans. He had a wealth of information _now_ , but how long would it still be viable? Every time he did something that was different than he had dreamed, he was altering the timeline a little bit. But he didn't know whether it was enough that Lily would be saved, and every time he altered the timeline, there was less information that he could use.

Lily couldn't die. Not this time.

He had to make sure that she got out alive.

He'd excused himself from the table, mind whirring. Now he was wandering through Cokeworth in no particular direction. Grime crunched under his shoes, so he instinctively veered toward the less industrial parts of the town, where the smog was far thinner and the houses were nicer. He paid little attention to his surroundings, which was odd for him. He was still too preoccupied with his newfound mission in life.

Briefly, he wondered whether he was so desperate to keep Lily alive just so that he wouldn't be suffocating in guilt as his older dream-self had been. He banished the thought immediately. Lily was his friend, his first friend, his only friend. Maybe their friendship wasn't as strong as he would have liked, since it hadn't survived the interference of the puffy-haired boy, but Severus would still do nearly anything for her.

He remembered her repudiation of him and ice curled down his spine. Maybe he had loved Lily more than Lily had ever loved him. It was not inconceivable. Lily had her sister and her parents and her friends at the school she went to in the nicest district of Cokeworth. Severus had only his mother and Lily and the library full of freedom.

Years ago, he had seen her doing magic out of the corner of his eye and had been so, so delighted to have a magical friend that he hadn't eaten for nearly three days.

Then, when he had first approached her, she had snubbed him. Her parents had been thrilled; they'd embraced Eileen as a guide to the magical world. But even now, Severus sometimes wondered what Lily thought of him.

He glanced up briefly out of his thoughts and realized that his feet had taken him to the park where he had introduced himself to her for the first time. He prayed that she didn't appear and took a seat on the swings, moodily pushing himself back and forth. What to do, what to do.

He didn't reemerge from his head again until he heard footsteps, too late to leave without letting her know that he was avoiding her. She sat in the swing to his right.

"Severus!" she cried, voice as bright as her hair. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in forever. Can you believe that we're going to Hogwarts in two days? We went to Diagon Alley yesterday, we should've gone sooner because it was so crowded, but Daddy only had today off of work and he wanted to come with us. Petunia didn't come, she should have, it would have been fun. I got a wand! Willow and unicorn hair, good for charms, good for healing. I think I might want to become a healer. What about you, what was your wand like?"

"Birch and dragon heartstring," Severus mumbled. "Good for things requiring precision."

"Oh, that suits you. I got a kitten! He's white with gray paws and a gray tail. I'm going to name him Lisianthus."

"That's a type of flower," Severus pointed out.

Lily waved a graceful hand in dismissal. Even at eleven she was beautiful, anyone could see that. "Only you would know that. How many times have you read through your potions textbook?"

Severus colored slightly. "Three."

Lily laughed, a bubbling, happy noise like a brook. Even her laugh was beautiful. "Oh," she said, "only you, Severus. Are you trying to learn everything before we even get there?"

The answer to that was yes. Severus had spent the past three years planning how to get out of Cokeworth and to somewhere he might belong. He'd take his mother, of course. She didn't deserve to be left by herself. But he had no money and no connections, so he had realized that the only way he could accomplish anything was if he scored high enough on his NEWTs and his OWLs that people were forced to sit up and take notice of him. He had to take every advantage that he could.

But Lily was watching. Lily, with her father and his high-paying job, Lily who wouldn't have to fend for herself until she was old enough and capable enough to do so. So Severus only shrugged and smiled sheepishly at her, which was the reaction she was expecting.

She leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees. "Tuney sent a letter to Hogwarts," she said in a voice filled with a frown. "She wanted them to let her attend, too, but they said no, because she's got no magic."

"Yeah," Severus said. "I would have asked too, if I were her." The thought of having to stand by and watch while a favored younger sister was given a train ride to a school of magic and mysteries made him feel physically sick. No wonder Petunia was going to stay at home on Wednesday.

"I'm sure she'll get over it," Lily announced with all the confidence in the world.

"I don't think so," Severus said softly, without really meaning to, remembering a scrawny boy with Lily's eyes wallowing in a shirt made for someone three times his size. Petunia had never 'gotten over it.'

Lily frowned. "What do you mean?"

Severus thought for a moment. "Well," he said slowly, "did your parents get Petunia a cat too?"

"No. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, you got a cat. Shouldn't she have gotten a cat too? She's older than you, but you got a pet first. How do you think that makes her feel?"

"But my Hogwarts letter said that I needed a cat," Lily argued.

"No, it said that you could bring a cat. _I'm_ not taking a cat." This was both due to the fact that his family couldn't afford a pet, and that Severus was mildly allergic to dander. Until he got that fixed, there was no way he was getting an animal. "Do you see what I'm getting at here?"

"No."

Severus sighed. "It's not fair," he said bluntly. "You got a cat, and Petunia didn't, and you got magic, and Petunia didn't, and you get to go to Hogwarts, but Petunia doesn't."

"But I can't help that!" Lily protested. "It's not my fault."

"It's not," Severus agreed, "but it's going to hurt Petunia's feelings, because she's going to think your parents like you better." Actually, Petunia already thought that, and she wasn't wrong. She was homely whereas Lily was beautiful, brazen whereas Lily was demure, raw-boned whereas Lily was delicate. People just naturally gravitated to Lily. "And that sort of resentment builds up."

Lily looked pensive for a long moment, twining a strand of hair the color of sunsets around her fingertip. "I suppose," she said finally. "I'll talk to my parents about it." Then she was off again, chattering about the magical bookstore she had seen.

Severus was actually interested in this topic, but Lily didn't stay on it for long. She moved on to detail the robe shop, the ice cream place, the bank, and practically everything else her family had done that day in Diagon Alley, but finally Severus had had enough. There had been a question niggling the back of his brain since before Lily had sat down next to him.

"Lily, would you die for me?"

His question fell into one of the gaps where Lily was taking a breath to renew her excited rambling. Her face immediately turned solemn and she looked at him steadily.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Just, would you?" There was a saying in _Hogwarts: A History._

 _A Gryffindor would die for you, but a Slytherin would kill for you._

Severus was a Slytherin, he knew it in his bones. His dream-self had died for Lily, but that was because his dream-self had practically become a Gryffindor. If Lily was in peril now, Severus would kill her assailants, not allow himself to die. But Gryffindors were often noble past the point of reason. They would rather die themselves than sully their honor.

If Lily was truly a Gryffindor—and he suspected that she was—she would die for those she considered her friends.

He studied her. Her face was set and her eyes were grim, as though she were envisioning the situation that would force her to come to such a decision.

Finally she looked back up at him. "Yes."

There was no explaining what that single word meant to Severus. Lily thought him worthy of her sacrifice. And she hadn't just made her answer on a whim; that would have been worth nothing. She had thought about it, deliberated over it, and that made her reply _mean_ something.

He nodded at her and closed his eyes. "Thank you, Lily."

 **A/N So some of you might be wondering why Severus doesn't seem to know everything. He lived through, basically, a lifetime in one night. He remembers everything that happened, perhaps better than the original Snape, and he has all of the memories, but it is a massive amount to know off the top of his head. Also, the dream is kept separate from his own memories. He is subconsciously doing this because in the back of his mind he fears that the dream may superimpose his own memories and he may become, in effect, the same Snape in a younger body. He only has what he considers important memories readily available to him, but not any day-to-day stuff that would be redundant.**

 **Another thing. As he has so many memories that he doesn't know what to do with, he's going to be basically clueless about certain things that he will encounter—at least, until the memories are triggered. He doesn't know what he doesn't know, at this point, so as soon as he knows what he doesn't know, he'll remember.**

 **I apologize for updating so late, my ducklings. First I had a nasty case of writer's block, then I was a counsellor at a leadership camp for a week, and now I have pinkeye. Don't get pinkeye. It's really, really, REALLY gross. Excuses aside, this is why I have provided an extra-long chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading, as always, and remember to review!**


	4. Chapter the Fourth

CHAPTER THE FOURTH

Wednesday came. Severus' marvelous anticipation was tainted by dread, for what if he saw all that he knew he would? He was chessmaster and pawn, victim and victor. He had the world at his fingertips, if only he knew how to manipulate it.

His mother rapped on the bathroom door, breaking Severus out of his musings and away from the mirror. He had taken to doing that recently, staring at his reflection whenever he was unsettled, the better to reassure himself that he was still young and still unbroken. "Love, we're going to be late."

"Coming, Mum," Severus called.

He was too nervous to eat. His mother hugged him briefly and slipped some coins into his pocket. "So you can have snacks on the train," she whispered.

Severus didn't protest. He couldn't.

The Evanses didn't have a Floo set up, so Severus and Eileen walked in the murky pre-dawn darkness over to their house, where their car was already idling in the driveway. Lily was clutching her kitten to her front, jiggling from foot to foot in excitement on the steps. Mr. Evans was finishing loading her trunk into the boot, but Mrs. Evans was nowhere to be seen.

Lily caught sight of them and bounced over to Severus, eyes shining. "I couldn't sleep last night, I was so happy," she babbled. "This is the sort of thing that happens in fairy tales, Sev, we're in a fairy tale."

Severus wondered if the puffy-haired boy would still be her prince. But he said nothing and grinned at her instead. Things would fall as they would. He had time to change them if it became necessary. Then he frowned. "Where's Petunia? Isn't she coming?"

Lily's chatter ceased abruptly. "She's not," she said softly. "She had a screaming match with Mum about it last night." Her eyes got sad. "Sev, I think you were right about the cat."

"I'm sorry," Severus said, and he was. This, perhaps, was one of the little triggers that Petunia had allowed to take over her life. He hoped she could come to her senses this time, instead of marrying a walking tub of lard and birthing a small whale like she had before. A rotten business, that had been.

Lily shook her head. "I wish I hadn't talked about Hogwarts so much," she murmured. "I think it's my fault."

Severus shrugged. "It's not all your fault. Petunia let herself be jealous."

"Still. That doesn't excuse what I did."

"If you know that, you won't do it again. Fix it if you can, but if you can't, don't allow yourself to dwell on it. Your life should not be a place for regrets."

Lily tilted her head to the side and studied him. "You've gotten so wise, lately. How?"

Severus saw her eyes on another boy's face. "I guess I grew up," he said, too tired to be bitter. "Come on, your dad's waiting."

They made it to the station in one piece, though Eileen had never become used to Muggle automobiles. She and Severus sat in the back, with Lily, sliding around on the slick leather seats.

The station was bustling with movement, Muggle businessmen in pin-striped suits, groups of schoolchildren chattering excitedly as their chaperones looked on. But Eileen paid them no mind, much to the Evanses' obvious confusion. "Come along, Platform 9 ¾ is this way," she called over her shoulder, striding ahead in sensible shoes.

Lily and Severus followed, too jittery to converse, though for one shining moment Lily did grasp Severus' fingers for reassurance. It was a nice feeling, Severus mused, being relied on for support like that. He wondered if that had been what his dream-self had been seeking, and thought sorrowfully that if it was, he had been going about it in all the wrong ways.

Then they were at the vast expanse of brick wall between Platforms 9 and 10, and Severus didn't have time to muse over motivation, past, present, or future. "It's an illusion," Eileen explained to the Evanses. "You can walk right through it, but most people prefer to run."

Severus gave Lily a quizzical eyebrow, silently asking. She raised hers right back at him, and they took off at a dead sprint, pushing their luggage in front of them.

Passing through the wall was like smelling the color yellow. For a moment, it made sense, but once Severus was through it he realized exactly how disoriented he had really been. Everyone took illusions differently, though. Eileen had told him she felt as though she was breaking into little pieces and reassembling on the other side, and when he asked Lily, she mumbled something about towers falling flat on their faces, and by then their parents were through, too, so he couldn't ask for clarification.

"Wow," Mr. Evans said, gaping at the mass of wizarding humanity before him.

"Wow," Mrs. Evans agreed, tugging at his sleeve. "Dear, we need to get out of the way before someone else comes through."

"What? Oh, right," Mr. Evans agreed dazedly, eyes flitting from person to person. "Does that boy have a peacock? Why does he have a peacock?"

"Technically, students are only allowed to bring a toad, cat, or owl to Hogwarts," Eileen said, "but the teachers don't say anything about the more exotic pets as long as they stay in the dormitories and don't cause any harm to the students. There was a boy in my year with a red fox."

"Peacocks," Mr. Evans said again, as though all the entropy in the universe stemmed from that one unexplainable fact. " _Peacocks_."

"Oh, dear," Eileen fretted. "Going through the barrier might have done that to him, it happens with Muggles sometimes. Why don't we find him a place to sit down and some water?"

"Mum," Lily interjected, "Sev and I are going to put our bags in the train."

Eileen had put a weightlessness charm on Severus' trunk, but Lily had no such thing, so the first three minutes of their adventure was spent trying to hunt down a prefect. "Ugh," Lily grumbled, jumping over someone's owl cage. The owl inside hissed with displeasure. "There ought to be a sign that says 'Prefects Here,' or something."

A flash of platinum blond caught Severus' attention from the corner of his eye, and his heart stuttered in his chest for a beat. "How desperate are we for help?" he asked, only half-joking. "There's one."

Lily craned her head around until she caught sight of the badge flashing on the boy's chest. "Oh, you're right. He does rather look like he's eaten something unpleasant." Her mouth curved up. "But he's a prefect, so he has to be nice to us." With that, she skipped towards Lucius Malfoy, as pale, pretty, and pointy as Severus had ever known him.

When Lucius caught sight of her, his mouth curled into a sneer for the barest of moments before he remembered himself and his position. "May I help you?"

"You may," Lily said breezily. "Could you put my trunk on the train for me, please? It's rather heavy."

"Why didn't you just put a weightlessness charm on it?"

She winked at him. "Can't do magic till we're at Hogwarts, right? I don't want to get in trouble before the term's even started."

Now Lucius really did look like he'd been sucking on a lemon. "Might I inquire as to what your surname might be?"

"Evans. I'm Lily Evans. Now could you please put my trunk on the train?"

Rich and powerful Lucius may have grown up to be, but he was still a spindly-legged fifteen-year-old in this timeline, and watching him attempt to bodily haul Lily's trunk onto the Hogwarts Express was a test to Severus' poker face. Lily was not so lucky, but tried to conceal her laughter as hacking coughs into her elbow. From the dirty looks Lucius sent her way, Severus was certain that she was fooling nobody.

"Excuse me, I need to get water," she gasped, eyes brimming and body quaking with the force of her suppressed giggles. She darted away, but as soon as she was out of sight Severus was sure that he heard her cackle in mirth above the din. He only hoped that Lucius hadn't heard it as well.

With Lily's trunk ensconced in a compartment, Severus effortlessly lifted his own up, but in doing so, he caught Lucius' attention.

"At least _you_ had the decency to put a charm on your trunk," Lucius huffed, disheveled and sweaty from wrestling Lily's luggage aboard.

"I'm sure she would have if she could have," Severus replied mildly.

" _Muggleborns_ ," Lucius sneered, his disdain transforming the politically correct term into an insult. "You have to wonder why they're allowed to attend Hogwarts at all. Think of how much they must slow down the curriculum."

"Really," Severus said dispassionately. "I was under the impression that Hogwarts is a school and that magical children are not allowed to practice magic in any capacity until they are seventeen or attending a registered magical facility for the intent purpose of learning. From that, I can't see how Muggleborns could be behind in any way, except perhaps with the exception of theory. And theory is useless without application." He coolly met Lucius' eyes. "And how strange that you should dismiss Muggleborns to my face when I could very well be one myself."

"You have a charm on your trunk," Lucius said, not breaking eye contact. "You're at least a half-blood. What is your family name?"

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," Severus said with a humorless twist of his lips. "But I know who _you_ are. Lucius Malfoy, son of Abraxas Malfoy, heir to one of the largest merchandising empires in the magical world."

Lucius arched a perfect eyebrow. "What general information. I can hardly see how it could be of any use to you."

"Oh, it tells me everything that I need to know." Their verbal sparring match would have continued but for Lily's sudden reappearance.

"Perhaps I'll see you in Slytherin?" Lucius asked, ignoring her.

"Perhaps," Severus replied neutrally. When he turned his back to finish loading his trunk, the skin between his shoulder blades prickled uncomfortably with the weight of Lucius' stare.

"You made a friend!" Lily squealed into his ear. "And you were so worried."

"I wouldn't call him a friend, Lily." _More like a budding sociopath._ "And I don't think you ought to have baited him like that. He seems the type to hold a grudge."

Lily clambered up onto the train. "He's a prefect, Sev. He can't do anything. Come on, let's go find our compartment."

Oh, Lily, Severus thought to himself. You have no idea what he could do to you if he were motivated enough. I hope it never comes to that.

But all he said out loud was, "All right." He was still in Lily's orbit, he realized, still revolving around her like he was caught in her gravitational pull. That had been his undoing, once before. He had to free himself from her regard. Not now, perhaps. But soon.

They went to their compartment, bounced giddily on the plush velvet seats, pressed their faces to the window-glass to see the people still passing by. After the ten-minute warning to departure was called, Lily ripped the hem of her jumper getting down off the train. Severus said nothing, listening to her noises of dismay. The future was now, he was sure of it, and no amount of Eileen's hopeful wishing could prevent that. The snowball had been set to rolling, but maybe this time he could prevent an avalanche.

Saying goodbye was—uncomfortable, to say the least. Eileen had already said a thorough farewell to him in the privacy of their own home, where there were not strangers to see and judge. But the Evanses were prone to hugs, and Mrs. Evans captured him three separate times while Eileen consoled Lily about her jumper. "The house elves will fix it, dear." She shot him a look of undiluted terror, but he pretended not to be concerned.

Eileen gave him one last rib-cracking squeeze, Mr. Evans clapped his shoulder, and Mrs. Evans sniffled noisily into a handkerchief. "Oh, they grow up so fast."

But finally, _finally_ they were on the train, pulling away from the station, and they didn't have to keep waving until their arms were about to fall off. Severus settled down against the bench and stared out the window. Lisianthus crawled over to him and draped himself over his thigh. "Lily, can you remove your cat? I'm allergic." His eyes were already starting to water.

Lily reclaimed Lisianthus and spent the next two hours poring over every single one of her textbooks. Severus, on the other hand, decided to unwind with a nice easy book about the physics of space. He also kept an eye on the door for any sign of the puffy-haired boy who had made his life so miserable the first time around.

Maybe that wasn't fair, Severus acknowledged. He had done plenty of making the puffy-haired boy's life miserable, too. It was just that the puffy-haired boy had had friends who were willing to unfairly gang up on Severus, and they had enjoyed it far too much.

Severus' spine burned with remembered humiliation. They had done so many things to him—he should hit them hard and fast, _now_ , when they wouldn't be expecting it, take revenge, make them _bleed_ , make them _cry_ , make them _beg for mercy_ , make them wish that they had never _dared_ to mock him and where he had come from, the circumstances over which he had no _control_ —

Lily made an absent humming noise as she reread the chapter on Transfiguring different types of metal, and the interruption was enough to snap Severus back into reality. Those boys hadn't done anything to him yet—he hadn't even _met_ them.

Severus glanced down at his hands and was unsurprised to see them shaking. He had just imagined hurting people. He had enjoyed imagining it. In that moment, Severus was glad he hadn't eaten anything yet, though the trolley had come by twice, because he would have just thrown it all back up.

Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't go down that road again. It would consume him, just like it had his dream-self. He had been no more than a husk of a man, driven by hate and something too obsessive to be called love. In that moment, Severus Snape sincerely considered taking up religion.

Then the trolley lady came by again and Lily was roused from her paranoia-fueled knowledge-cramming session by the promise of sweets. Even though Severus still felt ill, he bought a bag of chocolate frogs with some of the money his mother had given him because she had wanted him to have good memories of Hogwarts. The rest, he tucked away as an emergency fund.

Lily had no such reservations and bought one of everything. "You're going to be sick," Severus said disapprovingly, eying the spread of sugary things.

"I couldn't help it," Lily protested. "I've never had magical sweets before. And you're going to help me eat these, aren't you?"

It was his first time trying magical sweets, too, so against his better judgement, he did, though he greatly regretted having the Acid Pop. He was holding his hand clamped over his mouth, eyes streaming, rocking back and forth in pain, Lily looking on in concern, when the door to their compartment slid open and the puffy-haired boy and his band-shirt-wearing accomplice arrived in all their eleven-year-old glory.

"Um, is he all right?" the puffy-haired boy asked.

"He ate one of these," Lily explained, holding up the Acid Pop wrapper.

The boy in the band shirt laughed. "Oh, Acid Pops! I remember my first time eating one. I thought my tongue was going to fall off."

"How do you fix it?" Lily demanded.

"Have any chocolate?" the puffy-haired boy asked. "That usually helps."

Lily thrust a chocolate frog at Severus, who, desperate for relief, shoved it in his mouth whole. Immediately, the burn subsided to a manageable level and he was able to straighten up in his seat.

The puffy-haired boy grinned. "There you go. If it hurt you that badly, don't eat it again. Different people have different reactions to different magical candies, my mum says."

"Well, thanks," Severus managed. His tongue felt raw and scalded. "I wish I'd known that before, though."

The puffy-haired boy shrugged. "They really should put warnings on the wrappers for Muggleborn."

Severus bristled, long-cultivated instincts of hostility rising to the surface. "I'm a half-blood."

The puffy-haired boy put his hands up in the universal gesture of _hey, calm down_. "I didn't mean to insult you," he said. "It's just that half-bloods normally know about the candy and things."

They couldn't afford candy, Severus thought, ashamed, and then was angry with himself for being ashamed. "So, Mr. Candy Expert," he drawled, drawing upon every ounce of sarcasm held in his being (and it was a lot of sarcasm), "do you have anything _else_ to tell us?"

The puffy-haired boy opened his mouth to respond, but Lily beat him to the chase. "Severus, don't be rude. Sorry about him," she said to the two, smiling prettily. The puffy-haired boy went red and his band-shirted compatriot elbowed him, grinning. "He's been techy all day."

Severus bristled, then realized he was just proving her point. "I'm going to the washroom," he said abruptly, standing with a jerk. They didn't seem terribly sorry to see him go.

In the loo, he stood in front of the glided mirror, fancier than anything he'd ever seen in a washroom before. He stared at his reflection, still young, still untainted, still with a chance to do things right. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and shut his eyes. "I am Severus Snape," he whispered. "I'm eleven years old. My best friend is Lily Evans. I'm going to keep her alive. I am going to be happy in this life, and if that means making nice with the boys who helped ruin it the first time around, then I will. My life will not be a place for regrets."

The words rang true, so Severus took a moment to compose himself, splashing cold water on his face. When he got back to his compartment and slid the door open, a wave of laughter greeted him.

"—and then he looks up, _so_ _confused_ , and he says, "But I'm _allergic_ to spinach." The band-shirt boy was in his element here, inciting hilarity in the normally-composed Lily. This wasn't the way that things had been last time. Last time, his dream-self had refused Lily's offer of candy, too proud to take what he couldn't afford himself, and so there had been no helpful remedy provided for Acid Pops. Severus had been wary, disliking them on principle because they were so obviously wealthy—or at least, wealthier than him. They had returned that sentiment, and Lily had stood beside Severus because that was what she did for her friends. All of Severus' problems had stemmed from himself. _All because of my pride, my damnable pride._

They noticed him, then, standing in the doorway, and went quiet. Time to bite the bullet. "I apologize for my rudeness," Severus said stiffly. "Thank you." He went back to his seat.

The puffy-haired boy grinned. "No problem, mate. So," he announced, changing the subject, "what Houses do you want to be Sorted into? We," he gestured to himself and his companion, "want to go to Gryffindor."

Lily lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, me too!"

They exchanged congratulations all around, then looked at Severus. This was where it had really all gone sour last time. He had to be careful. "Wait, I never did catch your names," he said, trying to buy some time.

They were Sirius Black and James Potter, and as soon as he heard that, he remembered having known it. It was a strange sensation, but he decided not to dwell on it. "I'm Severus Snape," he introduced himself. "My mum's a witch. She thinks I'll be in Ravenclaw, but—" here he shrugged as though he didn't particularly care—"I've always been rather ambitious. I think it might be Slytherin for me."

Black and Potter reacted like they had been shown an infected wound. "But Slytherins are _evil_!" Potter shouted, waving his hands about ineffectually. "You can't _possibly_ want to be one!"

"I wouldn't," Black added. "My family's Dark, and they've all gone to Slytherin. They're some of the craziest bastards you'll ever meet." From Black's tone, Severus figured this was an under-exaggeration. Huh. His dream-self had never looked into the Black family tree, but that would surely explain a lot.

But first, he tried to reason with them. "Not all Slytherins can be evil," he protested. "That's illogical, because that implies that all people with a certain personality type are evil."

"Well, they are!" Potter snapped. "They're all evil, lying, worthless—"

"James, shut up," Sirius said calmly. He looked at Severus. "The thing about House Slytherin," he explained, "is that most of them are from old, Dark families like mine. And the thing about old, Dark families like mine is that they have issues. Lots of inbreeding, lots of mental problems, those sorts of things. Lots of paranoia. Put a lot of people like that in one place together, and it starts to get worse. That's why I'm getting out while I can. I couldn't stand spending the next seven years surrounded by people like my family."

Severus paused. That…made sense. But it still didn't matter, because he would still go to Slytherin. He had to. Right?

"That's a good point to consider," he replied cautiously. "We'll just have to see where the Hat puts me then."

They stared at him. "What?" he protested.

"A Hat?" Potter asked. "My father said we have to wrestle a troll."

 _Shoot._ He tried to shrug it off. "Just something I read in a book."

"Which book?" Lily probed, eyes boring into his skull. "None of the books I read said anything about the Sorting Ceremony. It's supposed to be a secret."

"Then maybe I didn't read it, all right? Maybe I just had a dream that there was a Hat that sang a song about the Houses and Sorted us." Lily eyed him skeptically. "It was a weird night," he defended himself. He'd been digging himself deeper with every word he'd said, but he hadn't been able to stop babbling.

Black grinned widely. "No offense, Snape, but I'd rather wrestle a troll."

"None taken, Black."

Severus was almost enjoying himself when the train pulled up to their destination. It turned out that Black and Potter weren't half-bad company when they weren't out to get him. Of course, Potter was still bigoted and kept making eyes at Lily, and Black was still an immature twerp. But that was to be expected. And Severus was actually far fonder of Black than he'd expected to be, because, now that he knew it was there, he could tell that Black did indeed have a serious side. _Or, rather, a Sirius si—no, not going to go there. Uh-uh. Nope._

But it was irrelevant how much he hadn't minded them, because if he were Sorted into Slytherin as he planned, the most he could expect was to be their friendly enemy, if that. Judging by Potter's view of Slytherins in general, he doubted that he could even be that lucky.

They had all changed into their robes, and Severus was glad that, even if his were secondhand, they weren't terribly worn. Potter had struck up a conversation with Lily about pets; apparently he had a barn owl called Venator. Severus thought that that was terribly uncreative. A barn owl named Hunter in Latin? It was as though Potter hadn't even tried. Black, on the other hand, did not have a pet, he shared with Severus, because his mother believed emotional attachments were a sign of weakness. When pressed, however, he admitted that he would like to get a dog when he was older.

All conversation ceased when the Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt. Lily sat wide-eyed, clutching Lisianthus. Potter sat open-mouthed, and Black pasted his cockiest expression on his face. Severus tried to keep his face and body language neutral.

It all progressed from there as Severus remembered it. Rubeus Hagrid directed first-years onto little boats, four at a time. Severus ended up sitting with Lily, Black, and Potter again, though he recognized one of the other Marauders in the boat directly behind them, a lanky boy with tawny hair and amber eyes. He couldn't remember his name, though, as hard as he tried. It always remained on the tip of his tongue but just out of reach. The feeling was maddening.

Too soon, they stood in the Great Hall, under millions of enchanted stars. The sea of faces stretched from wall to wall. Severus saw Lucius at the Slytherin table, along with another, younger girl he recognized. They went together, or, at least, they would, but he still couldn't recall her name.

The room went silent and Severus realized with a wince that the Sorting Hat had appeared at the front of the room atop its customary stool. Lily elbowed him sharply, but the Hat opened a tear at its brim and began to sing.

 _Look at me, what do you see?_

 _I am a Hat, of course._

 _But I am tasked to make the last_

 _Decision about Sorts._

 _Now, will you go to Gryffindor,_

 _For all those brave and true?_

 _They do their best to earn their rest_

 _Amid the tales of heroes past._

 _Or shall you go to Ravenclaw,_

 _And stuff your brain with ancient lore?_

 _To learn, and learn, and learn some more,_

 _A different feat than Gryffindor?_

 _Perhaps you'll fit with Hufflepuff,_

 _To traverse smooth as well as rough._

' _Loyalty,' now that's their creed,_

 _And for their loyalty they'll bleed._

 _Or Slytherin, a name that's said_

 _To frighten little kids in bed?_

 _But ambition does not evil make_

 _Those whose sigil is the snake._

 _And now it's time to look inside_

 _And see what I can see._

 _I'll see your hopes, I'll see your fears,_

 _I'll see every hidden tear._

 _But fear not: I will not speak_

 _After in your mind I peek._

 _For my job is simple, simple to say:_

 _I look at you, and who you are,_

 _See in which House you will go far,_

 _And I set you on your merry way._

Severus wasn't terribly impressed, but then, he supposed, it must be difficult to be inspired after so many years on the job. He tried to ignore the way his palms were sweating, even though he had been through this all before.

Black was the first Sorted of their little group, and, as predicted, he went to Gryffindor. The girl sitting at the Slytherin table who Severus had noticed earlier didn't react, though Severus had a gut feeling that they were connected in some way.

Lily went to Gryffindor. Severus would have been terribly surprised if she hadn't. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he ought to have been pushing her towards Ravenclaw, but he shook it off. It was too late now.

The boy whom Severus had recognized on the boat ride— _Remus Lupin_ —went to Gryffindor.

A nondescript boy with mousy brown hair— _Peter Pettigrew_ —went to Gryffindor. Severus felt a growl build in his throat but cut it off. Pettigrew— _the rat_ —had committed no sin yet. God help him if he ever did.

Potter also went to Gryffindor, though first he sat and casually chatted with the Hat for nearly five minutes. Severus wanted to rip his throat out, nervous from anticipation and indecision as he was. And finally, _finally_ , it was _Snape, Severus_ who was called.

He stumbled blindly to the stool, put on the Hat, and sat.

The Hat slid over Severus' eyes, its brim resting on the bridge of his nose. He squirmed uncomfortably, waiting.

"You're a strange one, aren't you?"the Hat said conversationally into Severus' ear, and Severus jumped. "Oh, I mean no offense by that, to be sure, but truly, you are. A mind full of memories that are and are not your own…is something I can't say I've seen before, and I've been a Sorting Hat for a rather long time."

So they are memories, Severus thought.

"Not anymore," the Hat corrected. "They _were_ memories, but they're not anymore. It might be better to call them reflections, perhaps, like those seen in a pool of water. Make too many ripples, and they'll break apart. You're making waves, so they're not quite memories yet, and they likely won't be."

So I saw the future? Severus asked with a sense of quiet despair.

"That too. Or did you mean, did you see the future magically?" The Hat gave the impression of shrugging. "I couldn't tell you. I'm just a Hat, after all. The important thing is that you _believe_ you can see the future magically. Believe me, belief is more powerful than the most powerful spell. There's a paradox in there somewhere. Or maybe not."

The Hat's tone turned sympathetic. "This is a heavy burden for anyone to carry. I wish it were not so, but perhaps it is best this way. And I would like to make something clear: you do have options. You have been proceeding close to the original timeline, but perhaps it is better if you veer from it. You have been avoiding that because you are frightened of going forward blind. Child, that is life. You wish to be happy in this life, do you not? Stop plotting."

But I _can't_ , Severus thought desperately. There was a prophecy, and I chose the wrong side, and Lily died because of me—

"Child," the Hat interrupted, its voice much, much gentler now. "If there is a prophecy, then you can do nothing to negate it. You say that your friend died as a direct result of your actions? Then doing nothing may very well keep her alive just as well as if you actively work against the Dark Lord. But no matter what I tell you, you must decide on your own. You could choose to tell your mother that the dream didn't come true. She would embrace it with open arms. She would stop worrying about your fate. You could choose not to go to Dumbledore. He would seek to use your talents before they had developed when he should be focused on developing _you_. What harm has there ever been in waiting?"

The Hat's question dropped into stillness like a stone tossed into the bottom of a well.

It waited, then, seeing that it would not get a response, sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose I should Sort you," it said with a forced levity. "Hufflepuff, now that's out. You wouldn't fit in very well. Too sarcastic, too much of an outlier. Hufflepuff is very much loyal to its own members, and that is a trait you simply do not possess. You are loyal on your own say-so, and not because it is expected of you."

That's not a bad thing, Severus thought, ruffled.

"I didn't say it was," the Hat replied. "Gryffindor, now there's a quandary. You are brave, no doubt about it. You would do well there. But I am concerned that putting you in such close contact with Lily Evans would be detrimental to your mental health. You know of what I speak."

Severus did. Surely obsession would only grow with proximity. He did not want to become enamored with Lily Evans and lose the best (only) friend he'd ever had.

"So for that, let's say Gryffindor is out. Now, the real decision: Ravenclaw or Slytherin. You knew that it would come to this. And you're leaning in favor of Slytherin."

Severus nodded, and the Hat sighed explosively. "I see what I just told you about choices just went right over your head," it snarled, sounding peeved. "Let me give you all the reasons why I refuse to Sort you there: One, it's filled with blood purists, which you are not and do not wish to be this time around. Two, it will alienate you from Lily Evans, which, as I recall, you did not want to happen again. Three, it will make you a target for the Marauders. James Potter is over-excitable and arrogant, and he will mark you as an enemy. Sirius Black will go along with it because he will not want to alienate himself by defending a Slytherin. Four, it will limit your opportunities and your allies in the event of a war. Shall I go on?"

But I have to go there! Severus protested desperately. I have to be recruited by the Dark Lord again!

"Rubbish," snapped the Hat. "You were a brilliant student the first time. Admittedly, you didn't try on schoolwork nearly as hard as you ought to have, but that's neither here nor there. Add nearly twenty years of experience to your mind, and what was brilliant before will be blinding." The Hat's voice dropped an octave. "People will notice you, Severus Snape. Make no mistake, the Dark Lord Voldemort will want you. You need not worry about that, if that is what you desire."

Well, _that_ was a terrifying thought.

But I have to be in Slytherin because I have to win Lucius over to the Light side! Severus protested, but more weakly than before. The Hat's tirade had filled him with quiet, nagging doubts.

"No, you don't," the Hat answered readily. "I told you, you will attract attention. People like Lucius Malfoy will look at you, and they will see power. Lucius will approach you and attempt to cultivate you as an ally. That will give you all the opportunity that you will need to try and influence his actions."

But what if you're wrong? Severus thought in a small voice.

"Then I will be surprised," the Hat declared. "I have been doing this job for a millennium, Severus Snape. Moreover, I have seen both Lucius Malfoy's and Tom Riddle's minds. I doubt that I am wrong."

It could tell that he still wasn't entirely convinced. "And perhaps you are mourning the loss of your reputation if you go to Ravenclaw. Slytherins are known, after all, for being competent and well-rounded, as well as ambitious. But let me tell you that as a Ravenclaw, you will be underestimated. People will look at you and they will see an air-brained bookworm who would rather be translating runes than doing anything useful. That is hardly a bad thing for someone in your position. And I will tell you that you were not Sorted wrongly the first time. Were it not for the blindingly stupid decisions you would make and the company you would be surrounded by, I _would_ Sort you there still." Here the Hat took on a wheedling tone. "Now _you_ tell _me_ , where is the last place one would expect to find a Slytherin?"

Damn, thought Severus, though he could not deny that he was relieved not to go back to that House made up of thinly veiled insults and even more transparent manipulations. The Hat had made a good case, and he supposed he would try to take it in good grace.

"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat roared, opening its brim as far as it could go.

A table of students burst into cheers. Severus stood, wobbly-legged, and took the Hat off. As he raised it from his head, he heard it whisper, "Tell me how it goes."

He stumbled to the Ravenclaw table and sat amidst numerous handshakes and pats on the back.

There was no turning back now.

 **A/N**

 **Hello, my ducklings. I'm sorry this was so late, so I made it extra-extra-long.**

 **Of course, this was my chapter with the obligatory Sorting Song, mandatory for all writers of Harry Potter fanfiction. I'm so sorry.**


	5. Chapter the Fifth

OF DREAMS THAT FRIGHTEN CHAPTER THE FIFTH

Being Sorted into Ravenclaw was turning out to be infinitely better than being Sorted into Slytherin had been, by the mere element that Severus had not been immediately designated as a pariah. In Ravenclaw, Severus was not a solitary half-blood among blood-purist purebloods—he was a half-blood among half-bloods. He didn't receive any sneering looks for his non-magical surname or the fact that his mother had stooped to marry a Muggle. This was a marked difference from his stint in Slytherin, where his blood status had thrown him to the very bottom of the pecking order.

In Ravenclaw, Severus was not mocked for his secondhand books or his shabby robes. And why should he be? He was fulfilling the stereotype of the disheveled scholar who cared about his studies more than his appearance. Half of Ravenclaw was the "disheveled scholar" type, and the other half consisted of those who believed that fashion was a completely subjective term. The first time that Severus had seen a fellow Ravenclaw wearing broomstick-patterned knee-length stockings under her uniform skirt, he vaguely remembered a little wisp of a girl with unkempt, scraggly hair and butterbeer corks for earrings. Somehow, it had made him feel more at home in Ravenclaw tower.

In Slytherin, his appearance had only been more ammunition for his Housemates to use against him. They had destroyed his things when they could, under the excuse that "we thought it was rubbish that someone had forgotten to throw away."

No, there was no denying that Ravenclaw was far better even now than Slytherin had ever been. His Housemates were polite. His dorm mates gave him his space, and so far his trunk hadn't even been tampered with. He hadn't the least thing to complain about.

But all these good things notwithstanding, today Severus was in a Bad Mood.

Lily had taken one look at him and, able to read his moods like a book, retreated to the far side of the library with some of the other Gryffindor girls. Severus would have been grateful for her perceptiveness if he hadn't been seething like a pot put to boil.

He had already been grumpy this morning because some of his Housemates had been having a lively argument about the best kind of magical potting soil to use for wild-type Devil's Snare over breakfast, and they had kept trying to pull him into the conversation. Their motivations had been purely benevolent, he was sure, but still. It had taken a few well-timed glares to make them realize that he was not any sort of conversationalist before nine o'clock in the morning or several cups of coffee. (Worse, coffee was not served at Hogwarts because Healers had found that caffeine adversely affected magical development in immature witches and wizards.)

But the real reason for his bad mood came after breakfast. He had had to go to double Transfiguration (historically not one of his favorite classes anyway), where McGonagall had pulled him aside and reprimanded him for the E he had pulled on his latest essay. He was left quivering with anger after that confrontation—not because McGonagall had scolded him for not meeting the precedent he had set with his other schoolwork, but because he had absent-mindedly set that precedent himself. He had accidentally Transfigured a match into a needle within five minutes of the demonstration having been given, which made McGonagall believe that she had some sort of prodigy on her hands, and she told the other teachers so. They were all now noticeably holding him to higher standards. Understandable from a teacher's perspective, but a nuisance to Severus.

He had previously been considering the best course of action to take regarding the years of experience from the dream and the edge up it gave him in magic. Finally, he had concluded that the best thing to do would be to pretend that he was only ordinary in regards to schoolwork (which, against stereotype, was not too terribly uncommon for Ravenclaws). Sometimes the best defense lay in concealment, after all. But then he had gone and blown it all with a careless mistake in front of McGonagall, and now there was no use playing dumb. He was furious at himself for having lost one of his greatest advantages.

It was after classes now, and he had set up in the library to work on homework, along with the vast majority of all the other first-years. It would be another few weeks before most of them (Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs) realized they could do homework just as easily in their common rooms, and then the library would be free for those who actually wanted to study (Slytherins and Ravenclaws). Right now, it was a madhouse. Madam Pince had already threatened expulsion twenty-seven times, to no avail. It seemed that even she knew that they would have to go away on their own terms.

The lack of monk-like silence was taking its toll on Severus, who fantasized using an Unforgivable or two just to get some peace, Azkaban be damned. His shoulders got tighter and tighter and his hands kept twitching towards his wand with every especially obnoxious noise. He could have left the library for the relative serenity of the Ravenclaw common room, but that would mean giving in to all the dunderheads who believed they could roughhouse wherever they wanted. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to will away his throbbing headache.

Instead of hexing everybody's face off, though, he had shown remarkable restraint and was channeling his irritation into his Potions essay. Slughorn had assigned nine inches on the uses of different lilies in sleeping draughts, but Severus had been in such a bad mood that he had already written three feet on how lilies could actually completely bugger up the purpose of the intended potion depending on how they were prepared, and he could still write seven more. Lilies were a complicated flower magically, which was why they were only examined _in_ _theory_ at Hogwarts. If the petals were shaved, the potion could put a giant to sleep for months. If the petals were diced, the sleeping potion would become permanent (also known as poison). If the petals were shredded, the potion would explode, and the resulting smoke could cause, ahem, _complications_ with the human reproductive system. That wasn't even taking the rest of the flower into consideration. He finished the essay at four feet and eight inches of cramped handwriting, and slammed his quill down, still not satisfied.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. When that didn't work, he stood up abruptly and vanished into the stacks, where he managed to lose himself in a fascinating book about magical creatures and where to find them. He only came back to reality when his knees started hurting from standing too long, so he took the book back to his solitary table, much less inclined to homicide now.

Except, his table had been inhabited during his absence and all of his things had been dumped on the floor. The instigator, a girl with a Slytherin tie and wild black hair, met his eyes and gave him a coldly superior smile.

Severus had cooled down enough while reading that he did not immediately begin to decide how to murder her without being caught. He also had a sinking feeling that he knew who this girl was, even if he couldn't quite recall her name at the moment. In the dream, she had been one of his chief tormenters within the House of Slytherin, and she had hated him—not because he was a half-blood, and not because he was poor, but because he had refused to give her the satisfaction of allowing her to win. No matter how many of his books she vandalized, and no matter how many jinxes she hit him with, he would just brush himself off and smirk at her as though to say _Is that the best you can do?_

Yes, it was his pride, his damnable pride, that had gotten him through Slytherin in one piece, and it was his pride, his damnable pride, that had pushed him to join the Dark Lord, because it was there that he thought he would never have to bow and scrape to those to whom he was superior in every way but blood…

"You are aware that I was sitting there?" he asked in cool, bored tones. He was finding that appearing wholly unruffled in any situation could be one of his greatest weapons.

"I knew," she said, still looking at him in a way that was insufferably smug.

"Then surely you knew that I left a Cringing Cushion on the seat for you."

She paled and leapt to her feet, craning around to see her backside. Cringing Cushions wrote hilarious and offensive things on the victim's rear end and were nearly impossible to remove from clothing. But the girl's inspection revealed nothing.

Severus took his seat and levitated his things back onto the table with a casual flick of his wand. Such a demonstration of power was unwise, but he didn't care anymore. He looked up and met the girl's accusing gaze. "This is my seat," he said as blandly as possible. "You are welcome to sit at this table, but this is my seat. Kindly remember that."

She scoffed and leaned towards him. "What? You think you own this seat?"

"As long as I get to this seat first, it is mine until I am done with it. I thought that was an understood practice."

There looked to be a lot of things she wanted to say in response to that, but instead she sniffed, grabbed her books, and stalked away. To plot, Severus was sure. She would be back, and she would not be happy. He had just made himself an enemy, and wondered if he shouldn't have just picked up his books and left. But, no. He wouldn't lick anyone's boots, not anymore. If that won him enemies, fine. But he had to draw the line somewhere. He wouldn't be a Peter Pettigrew.

"Who knew you had it in you?" someone asked from behind him. Severus turned to see Sirius Black come out from the stacks, where he had presumably watched the entire exchange. " _I_ wouldn't even cross Trixie, and Iknow that she wouldn't dare harm me. Maybe you're not so bad, for a Ravenclaw."

Severus raised an eyebrow and ignored the dig at his newfound House. "Trixie?" The name didn't ring true to the dream's account of her.

Black smirked. "Bellatrix. My cousin."

The words clicked into place. Bellatrix Black, most devoted follower of the Dark Lord, gleeful torturer of Muggles and wizards alike. Bellatrix Black, who perhaps might still murder her cousin, to whom Severus was speaking now.

"That's an odd name."

Black shrugged. "My family's got some awfully strange ideas on what's appropriate for names. Constellations and such. I'm named after the Dog Star, you know. But you've got no room to talk. What mother names her child "Severe"?"

"It can also mean "Grave" or "Serious"," Severus said, though he had to admit he had never gotten a satisfactory answer from his mother on the subject. He wondered if she herself knew.

Black stared at him, and a wide slow smile spread across his face. Severus realized what train of thought had pulled into Black's mental station. "You're Serious. And I'm Sirius."

" _No_."

" _Yes_."

"Don't you have homework to do?" Severus asked, hoping to pull Black's attention onto something more substantial. From what he remembered, Black had the attention span (and the intellectual capability) of a goldfish. Indeed, Black guffawed loudly (drawing a withering glare from Madam Pince) and seemed to forget about his oh-so-fascinating discovery.

"Well, _technically_ I have homework, but I don't see why I should bother doing it. We have to write an essay comparing basic cleaning spells, and it's not like I'll ever need to know those."

"And why is that?" Severus asked, opening his book again. Without any invitation, Black seated himself at the table, leaning on his elbows.

"Because of house-elves, of course. Why should I clean since they'll do it for me?"

Severus fought off the desire to hit Black with something heavy, like _Hogwarts: A History._ By God, he hated entitled brats. His ire must have shown on his face.

"What, did I offend?" Black asked with widened eyes. Severus took a moment to compose himself, lest he actually give into the temptation. (There _was_ a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ on the shelves…)

"You are a scion of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black," he said. "On the train, the things that you said indicated that you want to be different from your family. _Better_ than your family. You wanted to get away from the culture of blood purity and its side effects. But right now, you are not holding to what you said. Despite your words, you imagine that you are better than others simply because of the blood that pumps through your veins. You are wealthy, and therefore you feel entitled. You have never worked a day in your life for anything, and you think that it will always be that way. Everything you have ever wanted, you have gotten." Severus leaned forward. "So, tell me what happens when your family gets tired of your Gryffindor shenanigans and disowns you. You will have nothing. No money, no connections, and no way to gain either of those things because you ignored lessons thinking that you would never need to know what they offered."

Good God, I've turned into Hermione Granger, Severus thought, watching Black's face go red, then white, then red again. Mouth ineffectually opening and closing, no words making it out, Black finally shoved his seat back from the table with an ear-splitting screech and stormed away. Madame Pince turned her merciless glare onto Severus.

Perhaps he hadn't been _quite_ as in control of himself as he'd thought.

Wearily, he returned his attention to his book, but to his annoyance, he was disrupted yet again. "That family really has the most _disgusting_ propensity for dramatics, doesn't it?" a familiar voice drawled from behind him. Lucius Malfoy set himself down in Black's abandoned seat and arranged himself like he expected the paparazzi to be along any minute.

Pot calling kettle, Severus thought. Lucius had been infamous amongst Slytherins for his tantrums, a trait that seemed genetic as his son had been the same. But he said nothing (to compensate for the overabundance of speech that he had just given Black) and merely shrugged.

Lucius loved few things more than he loved an audience. (If Severus had to guess, those few things would be mirrors, Lucius' own opinion of himself, and the full-time hobby of disdaining those of lesser status.) Lucius was a natural showman; he used his voice and body to a great effect. It was one of the reasons why he had been so very influential as a politician, and now he was turning his not-inconsiderable charm onto Severus. Severus braced himself.

"I'm sorry you were Sorted into Ravenclaw," Lucius said, injecting so much fake sincerity into his voice that Severus could practically see it oozing onto the table. Well, then. Lucius obviously wasn't as accomplished as Severus remembered him being. Severus kept forgetting that this gangly fifteen-year-old in front of him was no dangerous mastermind yet, which was especially ironic when he remembered that Lucius had failed Advanced Runes _twice_.

Severus smiled a tight-lipped smile. "Don't be. The Hat thought that it would be a better environment for me, and I'm inclined to agree."

Lucius furrowed his brow. "I don't see what you could mean. Slytherin has a great number of members from Ancient and Distinguished Houses. Surely you would have found the number of connections to be made quite beneficial, especially with your level of skill."

Lucius was flattering him, trying to butter him up. He did not truly believe that Severus was capable of striking out on his own and succeeding, regardless of innate ability. Instead, he was trying to groom Severus as an underling, a feat which was especially vital now, when friendships and alliances had not finished forming and the first-years were still bewildered and would cling to any morsel of affection thrown their way. Severus knew these tricks; moreover, the Hat had been correct that Lucius would approach him.

Lucius would try to influence Severus; Severus would take these encounters and the proximity which they afforded him to influence Lucius right back.

"I'm afraid what I mean is that I am a half-blood." There, that was blunt enough to garner Lucius' full, startled attention. People, especially purebloods, did not talk about such things in polite company. Severus was tired of being delicate. He was a Ravenclaw; Ravenclaws appreciated facts above all else, and the fact was that blunt talk would gain him more ground than pussyfooting around the subject would.

"The Hat thought that I was well suited for Slytherin. However, it warned me that I might not be safe in such a company that would automatically consider me inferior because of what my father is." He met Lucius' eyes. "Will you deny it?"

Lucius hesitated for the barest moment. "I will certainly deny it. We Slytherins put stock in ability, not blood."

That was a bare-faced lie if ever Severus had heard one. Hufflepuffs believed that, and Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were natural enemies, just like Gryffindors and Slytherins, and occasionally Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Damn Slytherins. They had ruined House Slytherin.

Severus shrugged. "All right, then. But I'm a bit confused on one point, and I was wondering if you could clear it up for me."

Lucius smiled. "Of course."

"If Slytherins put stock in ability over blood, as you just said, then why is there such an emphasis on making connections within the House?"

Lucius floundered, but recovered admirably. "We are interested in garnering talent. Through connections, we Slytherins as a House are able to promote those of our members who possess talent into positions where they will be able to utilize those talents most effectively. As a result, House Slytherin upholds its reputation, and those with talent are noticed, whereas they might have otherwise been overlooked."

Severus was impressed, and not just at Lucius' coherency. Why, that had almost been the entire truth. Lucius had just conveniently omitted the part where "those with talent" were forevermore beholden to their benefactors, because, if one read between the lines, one realized that "those with talent" would have to be nearly exclusively Slytherin half-bloods and Muggleborns. Slytherin Purebloods would have their family names and their family connections to promote them, so they wouldn't need such patronage. Half-bloods and Muggleborns didn't have the same privilege.

"That makes sense," Severus said agreeably. "So, why are you talking to me?"

He would push Lucius a little and see what happened if he managed to trap him in his lies.

"Why wouldn't I talk to you?" Lucius said, with a charming smile. Severus returned it with a smile that, while somewhat less practiced, was just as sincere (which meant it probably wasn't sincere at all).

"I am not in your House, age group, or social circle. The only interaction you have had with me was when you helped my friend get her trunk on the train. There is no reason for you to talk with me."

He left the implied _So you must want something from me_ hanging in the air.

Lucius was startled, Severus could tell, but he again recovered himself with commendable speed. "I'm not quite sure what you mean."

Severus rested his chin on his palm. "How should I put this? I am well aware of my status in the wizarding world. I am the half-blood son of a disgraced Pureblood witch. You, however, are the heir to a vast fortune and a great deal of influence. We have no connection that would warrant this type of proximity."

"Can't I just be friendly?" Lucius asked. "You are sitting here all alone, and perhaps I, as a responsible prefect, want to ensure that you're adjusting well to Hogwarts."

"I would believe that," Severus replied, "if your manner did not suggest otherwise. You have not enquired about my welfare at all."

Lucius was looking trapped. Severus decided to push him just the _tiniest_ bit further.

"Besides," he said, "it is well known that Slytherins are remarkably insular as a House. I am not a Slytherin, and so it seems even more unlikely that you should approach me without an ulterior motive." There, he had laid out his hand. Now, what would Lucius say to that?

Lucius stared. "You are far _too_ young to be so cynical. I came over here to speak to you, and the first thing that you think of is manipulation? What has the world done to you?"

Ah, Severus thought. So, you're trying to redirect me like I redirected Black? That's not going to work, but I commend you for trying.

Aloud he said, "I know your type. Answer the question."

Lucius sighed. "I cannot believe you just said that I am a type. I am a perfectly unique character, I will have you know."

"I'm sure," Severus replied. "But why did you come over here?"

"I wanted to borrow that book from you."

Severus glanced down at the book in front of him. "There are other copies on the shelves, you know. Why did you come over here without looking there first?" Truthfully, there were no other copies on the shelves, but Severus wanted to see Lucius spill.

"I want _that_ copy."

"How could you tell that you wanted _this_ copy from the far side of the room? And why would you even need a copy of this book? I doubt that you're taking Care of Magical Creatures, and this book is hardly even relevant to that class anyway. Why did you come over here?"

"Why do you assume that I had an ulterior reason for coming over here?"

"Everything in you manner suggests it, so tell me, _why did you come over here?_ "

Lucius broke. "Well, the thing is—I'm not quite sure how to put this—"

"Perhaps you could just spit it out," Severus suggested. "Like you haven't been this entire conversation."

"We're family," Lucius blurted.

Severus had _not_ been expecting that, but in retrospect, it was a decent excuse, if he hadn't known that Lucius was grasping at straws. Lucius was related to nearly all of wizarding High Society by either blood or marriage (or both). It was no great feat to imagine that he shared blood with the Prince family.

"How?" Severus asked cautiously.

"Your grandfather is my great-great grandmother's third cousin."

Lucius had done research on Severus to know that off the top of his head. Severus wasn't surprised by that, but he was quite nearly struck dumb by the implications of what Lucius had just said. He had just claimed Severus as _family_.

That meant that he had just put himself on a level with Severus, or, more correctly, he had raised Severus up to his own level, despite the disparity in their classes. Family did not lord over family (when anyone could see), so that meant that he could not have Severus as an underling as he had certainly been planning. At most, he could have Severus as a sort of second-in-command.

Certainly, the relation of blood was weak, if not nonexistent, but that was irrelevant. Lucius had claimed Severus as family.

Oh, Lucius had just made a mistake of monstrous proportions. He hadn't been able to think of any plausible excuse, so he'd spat out an explanation that any un-indoctrinated first-year half-blood might accept. Practically all Pureblooded families shared blood ties with each other, but those ties meant nothing unless they were directly affirmed by both individual parties. Lucius had just (accidentally, Severus was sure) tethered himself to the child of a disgraced member of Pureblood society, and there was no going back now. Such a claim could not be revoked once it was made.

" _Wow_ ," Severus said, and meant it. "I don't know what to say. I never thought I would have family here at Hogwarts." There, he had just solidified the familial bond by acknowledging it himself.

Lucius was pale and his hands trembled slightly as he spoke; he, too, had undoubtedly realized the unintended significance of his words. "I would appreciate it if you could keep this between the two of us. While I am thrilled to have another member of the family—" (Severus doubted it) "—I am afraid that others may not feel the same, especially considering…"

Severus took pity on him. Abraxas Malfoy's temper was infamous, and Severus would not have wanted to be in Lucius' shoes for all the gold in the Malfoy vaults. "Especially considering my mother's status within the Prince family?"

"Yes, exactly," Lucius said with relief.

Severus nodded. "I appreciate you telling me this," he said gravely. "It has always been difficult for me, never knowing the magical side of my family."

Lucius unsuccessfully hid a wince at the mention that Severus was a half-blood, but he seemed to perk up after a moment. "I can only imagine so," he said with feeling. "You live in a Muggle village, do you not?"

"I do."

"What it it…like?" Lucius asked, leaning forward over the table and lowering his voice as though he was afraid someone might overhear. "I've heard that Muggles still relieve themselves into holes in the ground and bathe in rivers. Is it true?"

Severus blinked. "No, it's not true. Haven't you ever been in the Muggle world?"

"Never. My parents are afraid I'll catch something."

"Come visit me during break and I'll show you," Severus said without thinking. He almost immediately wished that he could take back his words, but then he thought better of it. It would be worth it if Lucius could learn some tolerance and never join the Dark Lord at all.

Lucius reared back. "Oh, no, I possibly couldn't, I'm going to France for the holiday." It seemed that Severus needn't worry about Lucius encountering his father.

"If you ever change your mind…" Severus let the offer hang. "Seeing as we are family, that is."

"Yes, yes," Lucius murmured, rising. "I'm afraid I must complete my Astronomy homework, but this has been a very interesting conversation. Have a nice night."

He disappeared faster than a Jew during the Inquisition, leaving Severus to digest the conversation.

That had honestly just happened, hadn't it? It changed _everything_. Having claimed Severus as a member of his family (which implied familial intimacy) when Severus was only very technically a member (and through a claim of blood, too, which was a bit different than a claim of fellowship), Lucius would be obligated to stick up for Severus as he would for his own brother. And since Severus had acknowledged the claim himself, that meant that Lucius could turn to Severus for assistance without hesitation, as family was meant to turn to one another for aid. Perhaps it would have been better for Severus to have left it one-sided, but his goal was to nudge Lucius back onto the straight and narrow, not only to gain advantages for himself.

The familial claiming wasn't magic _per se_ , but considering how strictly it was adhered to within wizarding society, it may as well have been an Unbreakable Vow.

Severus was now practically Lucius' brother.

He honestly didn't know how he felt about that.

 **A/N**

 **Hi, guys. Sorry this is so late. I've been swamped. I should be able to keep a more regular schedule now. Hopefully. Maybe. Possibly. I hope you all enjoyed what I had to write, and please review. It makes me feel fuzzy inside.**


	6. Chapter the Sixth

OF DREAMS THAT FRIGHTEN CHAPTER THE SIXTH ACTUAL

Severus was on his way to the Great Hall for dinner when he overheard a whispered conversation. He paused at the juncture of an unused side corridor, whereupon he began to eavesdrop shamelessly on two of his least favorite classmates. Leaning against a moth-eaten tapestry, he folded his arms over his chest and waited. He could be a little late to another spirited discussion on the metaphysics of ghosthood at the Ravenclaw table if it meant he knew what was going on in the archenemy department.

"I can't believe you got _Dungbombs_ ," Black was saying, voice touched with awe and just the slightest hint of envy.

"My dad sent them to me," Potter giggled. "He said that he used crates of them when he was at Hogwarts. My mum doesn't know, believe me. Who should we use them on?"

Judging from Black's silence, he was deep in thought. Severus hoped Black didn't overexert himself; if he managed to give himself an aneurysm by thinking too hard, then Severus would be in the radius of involvement. The last thing he wanted to do was gain acclaim by saving a fellow student's life.

Then, he wondered if he _could_ , the way things were now. He knew three different potions off the top of his head that would efficiently target and repair hemorrhaging, but they were both fairly complicated, and each required at least two hours' brewing. Madam Pomfrey might have access to one or all three of them, but Black could very well die before she got to him. There were _spells_ to accomplish the same thing, but Severus was ashamed to admit that he knew none of them. He was a Potions Master, not a Mediwizard, dammit.

Sorry, Black, he thought, with only the barest thrill of glee tingling down his spine. If you fall down in convulsions right here, I have every excuse to let you expire.

He stopped, momentarily horrified with himself, but at that instant Black finally found his voice, so he tucked that cancerous piece of himself away to be examined in depth later.

"You remember that Snape bloke we met on the train?" Black offered, and Severus' blood ran cold. "He was Sorted into Ravenclaw, but remember? He wanted to be in Slytherin."

Severus could hear Potter suck in his breath hard through his teeth. "Well, yeah," he said hesitatingly, "but the Hat put him in Ravenclaw after all, so he can't be that bad. Why, what happened?"

"He's a greasy git," Black snarled. "He walks around so high and mighty, oh, look at me, I'm so smart, I'm such a Ravenclaw, I'm so much better than you. Just a few Dungbombs, James, please. It'll be worth it just to see the look on his ugly face."

Severus' fingers had slowly tightened so hard onto his wand that his knuckles were bloodless and there were shooting pains up to his elbow. He was trembling with fury; he couldn't have hexed Black within an inch of his life even if he wanted to (and _oh_ , did he want to) because he couldn't have aimed worth a Knut.

"Siri? What happened? What did he do?" Potter's voice had that singular quality that had rarely ever been directed at Severus, save by Lily and Eileen. There were many words that could be used to describe it— _gentle_ came to mind, as did _concerned_ , _sympathetic_ , and _sincere_ , along with a host of others. But the word that would fit best was _caring_ —not the absent-minded care allotted to a virtual stranger, as Severus was to and felt for his dorm mates, but the honest care extended to people one was genuinely fond of.

When had that happened? It was only the second week of term, for Merlin's sake!

There was more silence.

"He defended my family," Black said an eternity later, in a small, wounded voice. "He told me that I'm going to be disowned because I don't meet their standards. He said that I don't deserve to have House-Elves clean up after me, and that I'm nothing without my family's money."

"He _said_ that?" There was no mistaking Potter's building rage, so much like his son in that regard.

"And—he had just annoyed Bellatrix, my cousin—in Slytherin—she sat at his seat and he tricked her to make her get out—but then he told me all that—and—I thought he—not that he would _understand_ , but that—maybe he would be _nice_ —"

Severus was getting fed up with Black's bleating, so he turned his back on the conversation, but then what Black had said hit him and he felt like calling himself nine kinds of fool. The Blacks were a Dark, pureblooded family. He had known that. Following that, its members would naturally all be Sorted into House Slytherin. It was tradition, and House Slytherin ran on tradition. (And black magic, but that didn't look very good on promotional material.) Black, though, had to be special, so he made himself into the black sheep of the family (no pun intended) by being Sorted into Gryffindor. He was almost certainly being shunned by the members of the society from whence he came.

Severus was dizzy with this revelation, perhaps more so than he ought to have been. His dream-self had known, he realized, but then his dream-self loathed Black with the passion of a thousand burning suns. His dream-self hadn't eavesdropped on a conversation in a little-used corridor, either. His dream-self hadn't suddenly understood the injury done unto Black.

Black was _eleven years old_ , for God's sake.

And so was Severus.

Black hadn't been _trying_ to be an arrogant arse when he approached Severus in the library yesterday. He was the sort who thrived on attention; he needed constant praise and reassurance. Severus' dream-self had taken this to mean that Black was no different than Lucius Malfoy or Crabbe and Goyle, albeit with a different House tie.

But, now that he thought about it, all those with whom Black would normally associate had abandoned him. That would certainly account for his closeness with Potter—Black would cling to the first hand offered to him in friendship. Moreover, that would account for Black's approach yesterday. Black was trying to expand his circle of acquaintances, as he, a blood-traitor, was no longer welcomed among most Purebloods. It was likely that he had already won over most or all of House Gryffindor, as he was wont to do, so it made sense that he would set his sights on the other two non-hostile Houses.

Severus tolerated most social interaction. Black _needed_ it. Severus now found himself really marveling that Black had survived over a decade in Azkaban with most his mind intact, since Dementors were a little less than likely to pull up a chair and exchange riotous stories over a pint or three of stout.

So, anyway, Black's air of affected arrogance had been just that—affected. He had probably been disdaining his homework just to demonstrate that his company was more desirable than good marks, a strategy which would work wonders on Gryffindors, but which would have limited success on Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. It was Severus who had failed miserably in that interaction.

Shite, he thought.

Actually, he didn't really think "shite." He thought of a magical expletive so eldritch, powerful, and foul that wizards across the globe had banned together to wipe all traces of its existence from the annals of human knowledge. Severus himself had learned of it when serving under the Dark Lord and had gone to great lengths to acquire it for himself for use in those singular circumstances in which even the "F-bomb" couldn't express the correct depth and breadth of emotion. To say it would be to rend the tendons from one's joints and the skin from one's flesh; to read it would be to everafter see it branded on the back of one's eyelids in burning, blood-red runes; to write it would be to weep tears of blood and brain fluid; to hear it would be to lose complete, immediate, and humiliating control of one's bowels. So, essentially, yes, one could say that it wound down to the same effect as "shite."

Dimly, Severus heard Potter agree that Snape made a suitable target indeed, but with rather stronger language. Lovely, he thought bitterly. He'd almost managed to avoid becoming Snivellus again, but it seemed that history was bound to repeat itself. Blast it all.

 _Shite_ , he thought again, rather more emphatically this time.

He pressed himself against the tapestry as they left the corridor, holding still and keeping quiet. Potter might want to be an Auror, but he hadn't learned the need for Constant Vigilance yet. Neither of the Gryffindors saw him, and Severus waited several minutes until he deemed it safe to follow them to the Great Hall.

His mind was a-whir all through dinner, though luckily he was distracted by a fascinating argument concerning the theory of displaced mass. This was part of the Transfiguration curriculum; obviously, even though one could transfigure a hat stand into a giraffe, the additional mass had to come from somewhere. Or, it did as long as one was creating a giraffe-weighted giraffe. Therefore, the popular theory was that additional mass came from the same place that Vanished mass went to when it was Vanished. However, nobody could say for sure where that hypothetical place was, so it remained a theory.

It also didn't help him with his problem. Maybe Lily would know what to do, but if he sought her help then he'd have to tell her how he had lampooned Black's sense of self-importance, and she would sigh at him. He supposed he'd faced enough of her sighs to be partially immune by now.

"You said _what_ to him?" Lily asked, incredulous, voice going up half an octave, though she kept it pitched low. He'd caught her at the tail end of the meal, and now they were huddled together in the shadows of a niche in the wall where a statue of Someone Important had used to be until a pitched hallway battle over Quidditch stats had reduced it to dust a few days before.

"You heard me," Severus said, feeling defensive.

" _Sev_ ," Lily scolded. "That was a terrible thing to say. Black's family is very unhappy that he's a Gryffindor."

"Well, I know that _now_ ," Severus snapped. "Black said as much."

Lily stared at him and then _sighed_. "You were eavesdropping again, weren't you?"

"Is that really important?"

"I don't know what you should do. Why don't you just apologize?"

"Then he'd know that I was eavesdropping, and that would probably make him even more against me," Severus said. "Besides, I said nothing that wasn't true. It's not my fault if he took it too much to heart." He noticed with a shudder that a petulant note had worked its way into his tone.

Lily stared at him some more, and Severus tried not to squirm. He'd always been sure that, had Lily learned the procedure, her Animagus form would have been a cat. She had that way of staring at someone unblinkingly until the intensity of her gaze was like a red-hot poker, enough to draw confessions, true or false, and then when she spoke, her words had that much more weight to them.

"You of all people should be kind to him."

Severus looked away.

There was silence for a moment, and then Lily sighed. "I know why you did it. He's annoying, isn't he? He's always going on about Quidditch or hanging around with that Potter boy. But we can be nice until things calm down with his family."

"I thought you didn't mind Potter," Severus said. "You didn't seem to on the train."

"Well, you didn't seem to mind Black then either. Don't change the subject."

Severus gave her a questioning look, and she rolled her eyes.

"They're prats, really. I guess we just didn't notice then. Potter's always trying to bother me, and he and Black egg each other on. They lose points for Gryffindor a lot. And they've gotten Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin to go along with it, even though I'm sure they'd rather be left alone. Peter and Remus are nice boys, not like Potter and Black at all."

Severus smiled tightly. "As long as they don't come up with a ridiculous nickname for themselves and go about wreaking havoc in the school."

Lily snorted. "Don't give them any ideas. Hey, I have to do my Transfiguration homework. Want to come with me?" She caught Severus' sleeve up in her hand and began dragging him towards the library. At this rate, he was going to be practically living there. Not that he minded, especially if he had Lily to keep him company. The warmth of her hand burned through his sleeve.

"You had Potions today, right? Did you turn in that massive essay you wrote?"

Severus coughed. "Yeah. But I don't think Professor Slughorn was very impressed. He told me that size doesn't matter and that it's better to go under the set length with pertinent information than to have a lot of words but little substance."

Lily harrumphed. "That was rude of him."

"No, I think he's just sick of students trying to look smart and increasing his workload. I'd hate to be a teacher." A spasm ran up his spine as memories of _just_ _that_ flew past his eyes. He suddenly felt the inexplicable need to take away House points for minor infractions and bring terror to the hearts of first-years. If nothing else, he swore to himself that he would at least avoid that heinous fate.

"I don't know, it could be fun," Lily objected, and Severus twitched violently. Late nights of grading poorly-written essays, days of never-ending lectures to students who couldn't care less, years of repetition, repetition, _repetition_ —Severus broke out into a cold sweat at the thought. It had been the farthest thing from "fun" that he could imagine. "Hell" was a bit more accurate.

"No," he said hoarsely. " _No_."

"Sev, are you all right? You're really pale," Lily said with concern, reaching up to lay her hand across his forehead. "Sev, you're clammy. Do we need to go see the nurse?"

"She's called a Mediwitch," Severus said distantly. "I'm fine. Let's just go."

Lily frowned at him but removed her hand, pulling him onward again. "If you feel sick, tell me. I think Madam Pince would kill you if you threw up in her library."

Severus privately thought that Madam Pince would do everything in her power to completely ruin Severus' life, like refuse to check out books to him anymore. His stomach churned. Now that was a fate worse than death: boredom. And it was at that moment that he knew he had truly become a Ravenclaw.

On their way, they passed Lucius Malfoy, who accidentally made eye contact with Severus and immediately skittered into the nearest corridor, where, judging from the sound of his footfalls, he broke into a run.

Lily's eyebrows drew together and her fingers tightened in the sleeve of Severus' robe. "What," she said, enunciating clearly, "is his problem?"

Severus tugged her forwards. There were degrees to Lily's ire—when she stared enunciating, it was time to draw her attention to something else, or else she would deliver a tongue-lashing so severe that the victim would be lucky to retain the skin on his back.

Enunciation wasn't nearly as bad as speechlessness—when Lily became incapable of forming words, it was time to duck and cover.

"I'll tell you later, Lily," Severus promised. He sighed internally. To disarm Lily's wrath, he would have to emphasize the unpleasant rumors about Lucius' father and play down the fact that the whole mess had been incidental on Lucius' part. He wasn't surprised that Lucius was avoiding him after yesterday. It was a viable strategy, though Severus wouldn't play along forever. He'd have to consider his next move.

The next morning was mostly uneventful. Severus woke up, got dressed, listened to another depressingly energetic Ravenclaw table deliberation (this one was on fate—if things were really written in the stars, how come they couldn't be avoided?), and went to Transfiguration again, where they had to turn beetles into buttons. Severus had already outed himself in that class, as it were, so he absent-mindedly transfigured a solid steel button, an ornately carved silver button, and a soft cloth button embroidered with yellow and white daisies. He could feel McGonagall watching him, but he had archly decided that he Did Not Care.

He went to History of Magic, a class which his classmates unequivocally enjoyed; the opportunity to take a nap in the middle of the school day was no small thing. Ravenclaws had a system: they chose a scribe for every class period to take notes, which were then duplicated and passed around. The other Houses had similar processes because even the most hard-working Hufflepuff recognized that sleep was superior to listening to yet another droned lecture on the Goblin Wars of 1056.

Lunch, as always, was a Ravenclaw special—Silencing Spells, and whether they created an invisible barrier that blocked sound waves from passing through (but wouldn't that create an echo effect within the spell?) or whether they simply halted the movement of the particles that carried the sound. Severus didn't see that there was much of a difference.

After lunch was disaster, formerly known as Charms. It wasn't that Severus had forgotten that Ravenclaws were with Gryffindors for this class; he had just made the assumption that Black and Potter wouldn't be so blisteringly stupid as to make a move against him here, in Flitwick's direct line of sight.

This would teach him to make assumptions where Gryffindors were concerned, he decided, waiting for Flitwick to cast some spell to neutralize the sickly-sweet stench of human shite that clung to him. It might take Flitwick a while, though, as he was at the moment occupied with raking the offenders over the coals. The rest of the class was gagging and jostling for a breath of fresh air at the opened windows, save Lily, who had been right next to Severus and so smelled just as bad as he did. She'd already taken her vengeance; Black and Potter sported matching sets of painful-looking welts.

"Feel less inclined to homicide now?" Severus coughed to her.

"Just a bit," she said coldly. "I would have gotten Lupin and Pettigrew too, but I don't think they were involved."

Severus was inclined to agree, considering that 1) Lupin and Pettigrew hadn't been anywhere near Black and Potter when they'd made their attack, and 2) Pettigrew was currently dry-heaving out the window because of the smell. Lupin was patting his shoulders consolingly.

Flitwick turned sharply on his heel to face the class. His squeaky voice had become low and dangerous with anger when he addressed them. "As Mr. Black and Mr. Potter saw fit to disrupt today's lesson, they will be cleaning up their mess. The rest of you may leave. Please take a shower."

Most people cheered. Pettigrew retched again.

"Mr. Lupin, please escort Mr. Pettigrew to the infirmary. Mr. Black and Mr. Potter, you will come with me."

Severus wondered what had caused such a difference in execution. Black and Potter had been much more devious in the dream; they were almost Slytherin in the way that they rigged pranks so that everyone knew they had done it, but there was no solid evidence against them. Maybe he had made them so angry that they had disregarded common sense; maybe they hadn't realized how fatal it would be to attack a Ravenclaw in front of his Head of House. Either way, there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that this would only compound their desire for revenge.

"Those miserable little toe-rags," Lily muttered, stomping harder than was strictly necessary over chilly stone floors. "Immature little idiots. Oh, we have a problem with something Sev said. No, let's not confront him about it like rational creatures. Let's pelt him with Dungbombs, and oh, we'll hit Lily too, because she's friends with him. Why, yes, we _do_ sleep with teddy bears and sit down to pee. How did you ever know?"

Severus bit down hard on a smile.

"Those little brats had better watch themselves. I won't stand for them picking on you."

"Thank you, Lily," he said softly, touched.

She flapped a hand at him. "None needed, Sev. Besides, they got me too. I don't think I've ever smelled this bad in my life."

They parted ways for their respective Houses. Severus' year mates were already in their dorm, but as Severus had been the victim of several direct hits, they wordlessly gave him precedence for showering. Standing under the spray (which was quite literally a magical experience (the water temperature automatically adjusted itself according to his preferences)), he scrubbed down until his skin was rubbed red and he couldn't catch even the faintest whiff of poo.

Then, he began the intensive process of washing his hair, which hung lank but not yet greasy around his shoulders. (That would be a product of puberty, according to the dream. After Lily's—after Lily, he had stopped caring about his appearance, since its upkeep wouldn't achieve any ends.) As he lathered, he plotted. The best and smartest path to take would be to convince Black and Potter that it had all been a genuine misunderstanding. Ravenclaws were not known for their tact, after all. He wouldn't go so far as to kowtow, but he would humble himself to apologize if it would stop the snowball's descent into Hell.

(There was a mixed metaphor in there. Or maybe not.)

If that didn't work, well—he had already become something of a teacher's pet. That wouldn't wholly protect him, but it would provide some leeway. After today's little stunt, he doubted that Black and Potter would try anything anywhere in the vicinity of a teacher. That meant that the halls would be prime real estate for ambushes and the like, so he'd have to be careful. It would be dangerous to go anywhere alone, but since Lily wasn't always with him, he'd either have to make friends with his year mates or travel exclusively by Hogwarts' main passageways, which remained mostly stationary within the castle and thus were always full of other students.

He could do it. It might make his day a little harder, but then he'd been beating the odds his entire life. Besides, he knew things that would make grown men cry. If push came to shove, he would make Black and Potter rue their respective inabilities to grow up. (Perhaps literally. He knew a fine curse for stunting growth.)

Severus rinsed out his hair and reached out to turn the water off. Yes, that was a good plan. Reparations if possible, and if not, avoidance. These things had a way of spiraling rapidly out of control, but if he didn't throw fat on the fire, he might not get burned. He dressed in quick, jerky movements, got his shoes on, and slid his wand up his sleeve. He ought to get a proper holster for it one of these days.

After the aborted Charms period had ended, he went to his next class with Hufflepuff. Dinner was after that, but he had resolved to draw this matter to a conclusion as soon as possible.

He wasn't at all sure where Flitwick had taken Black and Potter for their punishment, so he skulked around until he saw them leaving Flitwick's office, sleeves rolled up to their elbows and scowls on their faces. Severus waited in the shadows to intercept them, out of sight but not earshot of Flitwick's open office door. He braced himself and stepped out into their paths.

They startled and he didn't allow them any time to recover. "Have I offended you somehow, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter?" he said, allowing ice to form on his words. He fancied that the air dropped a few degrees. "Tell me, have I done something to merit your attentions?"

Potter recovered first. "You know what you did," he growled, stepping into Severus' personal space.

Severus glared. "I'm afraid I don't read minds. What did I allegedly do?"

"How dare you—" Potter breathed, taking a step even closer to Severus and leaning so far forward towards him that their noses were almost touching. Severus drew on his resolve and stayed put, even though his skin was crawling at the thought of breathing Potter's tainted air.

"James," Black said suddenly, and Potter turned his head, much to Severus' relief. Black motioned for Potter to stand down, taking a step forward himself. He smiled a cold, sharp smile. "Snape, remember the library, oh, two days ago?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you supposed to be smart? Don't you remember what you said?"

"About your family, specifically, you mean?" Severus asked. He widened his eyes in an approximation of surprise. "Oh, is that it? I had believed that I made an unbiased observation of your situation. Did I say something that was untrue?"

Black hesitated. It was only the space of a breath, but to Severus it was as significant as a white flag in wartime.

Got you, he thought.

Black would take the way out that Severus had just offered him. It was the only way for him to preserve his pride.

"Yes," Black said, then said it again more emphatically. "Yes. Every single thing that you said about me and my family was untrue, and I demand that you acknowledge it."

"Oh," Severus said, tilting his head like he didn't quite understand what the fuss was about. "Then I apologize for unjustly slandering your family name. It was incorrect for me to do so, especially to your face. However, I wonder if it was correct for you to throw Dungbombs at me when you could have expressed your grievances more efficiently, as we have just done."

Black's face twisted like he had bitten into something bitter, but he extended his hand. "I accept your apology, and I regret the wrongs done to you and your friend. We didn't mean to hit Lily. She was just standing by you and James missed."

Severus glanced at Potter, who was scowling at the floor like it had offended his mother. Black tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a meaningful look. Potter spoke through gritted teeth. "I apologize for throwing Dungbombs at you. You need to watch what you say."

Black stepped in again. "We'll apologize to Lily the next time we see her."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "No more Dungbombs, then? Splendid." He thought he saw Black's eye twitch. "I will refrain from commenting on your family. Have a good night." Half-expecting to receive a jinx between the shoulder blades for his trouble, he spun smartly on his heel and left.

Despite his misgivings, he made it back to Ravenclaw Tower unmolested, whereupon he collapsed, exhausted and fully-clothed, onto his bed. That had gone better than he had even dared imagine, and now he deserved a nap.


	7. Chapter 7

Professor Ahlgrim, the Astronomy teacher, was fairly well liked. He let students use his thousand-Galleon telescope to look at clusters of cities on the Continent, rarely assigned essays, and could usually be counted on to write excuse notes if a student overslept after a night of stargazing.

He did, however, believe that crater maps and star charts were the absolute most vital part of a Hogwarts education. To that end, when there was a streak of unusually clear weather and a very bright moon a few days after Severus' final altercation with Black and Potter, he had had alternating classes of first-years out on the Astronomy tower at midnight for a week. Aside from general grouchiness and sleep deprivation everyone felt, there was just one other issue: Severus was not fond of the magic associated with moonlight. To say the least.

Even after he had graduated from Hogwarts, his dream-self had been perpetually sleepless on nights when primal magic saturated every root, leaf, twig, and rock, when wild things came out to play. He had learned his lesson years ago, when a creature out of a nightmare had almost vivisected him and scattered the remains. Even now, years and a lifetime distant, even before the sky darkened to perfect velvet and the moon became wholly visible, Severus always felt its presence as soon as it crossed over the horizon; a shiver shuddering down his spine that urged him to take shelter indoors.

Naturally, this made Astronomy classes hell.

Naturally, Severus was lucky enough to have class the night of the full moon.

Naturally, Professor Ahlgrim wanted them to trace its path across the sky, so they were scheduled to be outside starting at moonrise, just as the sun was setting.

Ravenclaw was with Slytherin, which always meant basic back-and-forth insults and some Slytherins getting caught trying to copy off a Ravenclaw's paper. This time, however, there was dead silence. It grew more pronounced as the moon's jaundiced eye peered over the far-off mountains. The students watched the sun sink with looks of dismay, huddled together in the middle of the tower. Professor Ahlgrim's reassurances fell flat. Something about this moon threatened. The sun had halfway disappeared already. Severus held his breath, waiting. One of the Slytherins whimpered under his breath. The moon was straining to crest the tallest peak. The smallest sliver of molten gold clung to the horizon. Someone shivered violently against his shoulder.

The sun set.

The moon rose.

And the screaming started.

Some tortured creature keened with all the agony it knew, an agony that increased tenfold with every passing moment. Professor Ahlgrim jerked so hard he almost dropped his thousand-Galleon telescope. Uttering an expletive unsuitable for the ears of impressionable small children, he barked, "Class is over. Everyone, inside."

Severus trailed after the others, glancing first over the tower's chest-high wall in the direction of the Whomping Willow and the monster that it protected. Of course, it wasn't a _human_ screaming—or it wasn't quite a human, at least. Severus knew what it was, even if Professor Ahlgrim didn't.

Werewolf.

Severus didn't sleep that night—he couldn't. Every time he shut his eyes he remembered the bloody glint of moonlight upon teeth, the slow spread of sticky-warm saliva across his collarbones, the rank breath against his throat. His bedcovers seemed to him the weight of twisted paws on his chest, pinning him down. He remembered the hunt, how the creature had advancing, coughing growls emitting like malevolent chuckles; the coppery taste of terror in his mouth. He remembered being pulled to safety by the person he hated most in the world, and worst of all he relearned the bitter truth of it all—the world would always side against him.

Always had, and always would.

Dumbledore had called it a prank. Sirius Black had almost gotten away with murder. And Severus had been told to be grateful to Potter.

With these thoughts seething in his mind, Severus lay wide-awake and wide-eyed til the desolate howling faded into ragged silence and he could push the memories back where they belonged.

* * *

Sirius ran up slab stone stairs embedded into the side of a mountain/mist curled around his head/mist settled in his lungs/the air was heavy and sweet/with the smell of green things/growing things/a jungle on a mountainside/mountains floating past him through the mist/Sirius ran past Remus/sitting on a stone step/sitting in a silver cage/head buried in his hands/a classic carriage of despair

like he'd been carved out of stone/Michelangelo's protégé/brown eyes/grieving eyes/eyes like dead leaves floating in a pond/wet/delicate/so easy to tear apart

eyes that welcomed/eyes that damned/yes his eyes were damning now/looking at him/blame/blame/guilt and blame/teeth bared in a mockery of a smile/Remus' teeth that bloodied his own lips/blame guilt/self-blame self-guilt/what's the difference/there's no difference/not to him

Sirius ran on/ran on/feet thudding on wet slick stone/so easy/so easy to slip/lungs burning/looking for/looking for something/looking for what

there/Lily there/hair like fire/wildfire hearthfire/devours/destroys/warms/welcomes/leaning over a deep round green pool/green like her eyes/there had been less water in her eyes once

Lily Lily dressed in white/white like innocence/white like lies/white like Ophelia/drowning/drowned amongst her flowers

careful/Sirius shouted/careful/don't fall in/don't get over your head/careful Lily/don't let it put out your flame

but she leaned over farther/hair hanging down/a curtain/pressed her hands into the water/brought it to her mouth/drank deeply/gasped/cried out

because knowing hurts/a lesson Sirius knew only too well

Sirius wanted to stop by her/help her/but he was still running/still looking for something/and besides anyhow/she had made her own choice/there was nothing he could do for her now

isn't life just choices/choices/better not make the wrong choices/what are the wrong choices/you never know until it's too late

Sirius ran on/ran on/feet thudding on wet slick stone/so easy/so easy to slip/lungs burning/looking for/looking for something/looking for what

a boy/no/a man/a man without a hand/Peter/the man was Peter/what happened to Peter's hand

Peter looking down at it like he didn't understand it either

then Peter looked up/Peter's eyes were wrong/they weren't soft anymore/they were hard/excited/a smile like a rat/a greedy smile/greedy for what/Sirius didn't know/Peter knew/Peter knew what he was greedy for/Peter reached out/tried to snatch at Sirius/Peter grabbed at Sirius' legs/Sirius stumbled/Peter crowed in victory/Sirius got away/he didn't know how/running on four legs instead of two/he got away from the man with no hand/the man with the silver hand/he left Peter howling/Sirius didn't dare look back/he ran on

Sirius ran on/ran on/feet thudding on wet slick stone/so easy/so easy to slip/lungs burning/looking for/looking for something/looking for what

ahead/a path that diverged from his/a path that didn't go where he wanted to go/he ran past/but as he passed/he turned his head to see/curiosity killed the cat after all

a figure walking down the path/a shadowed figure/a figure wreathed in darkness/a figure Sirius knew only too well/Sirius skidded to a halt on wet slick stone

Regulus/don't go down there/you don't have to go there/Reggie/Reggie/can you hear me/Regulus come back

Regulus didn't even turn his head/he walked into the dark/into the tangle of brambles/into the web of lies/with sure and steady footsteps/a sure and steady stride

Sirius wept/he shuddered/he ran on/because/Regulus had chosen/and so Regulus would die

night suddenly/mist exchanged for biting winds/mountains now a flat broad plain/a playing field/a Quidditch field/goals at either side looming/looming/silhouetted silver against the sky/like dreamcatchers/but these caught the good dreams not the bad/caught the good dreams/burnt them away

Frank there/Alice there/smiling shyly/under the goalposts/Frank reached out for Alice's hand/Alice smiled and gave it/Sirius shouted/hands outstretched

wait/he cried/wait/don't you know you'll die

he gritted his teeth/closed his streaming eyes—

Sirius ran on

Sirius ran on/ran on/feet thudding on wet slick stone/so easy/so easy to slip/lungs burning/looking for/looking for something/looking for what

his path again branched off/to where Regulus had gone/Snape stood there/blocking the path/one foot on and one foot off/undecided or lying/draped in black robes/mourning robes/robes with long sleeves that concealed/past sins and past regrets

get out of my way/Sirius said

Snape smiled a colorless smile/I'm not in your way/even if I'd like to be

he held up two hands/a potion in each hand/one gray as dirty water/one bright as a phoenix's tears

choose/he said/one will kill you/the other will save you/pick your poison/Sirius Black

I don't want to/Sirius said

you'll get one or the other eventually/Snape said/choose while you still have the choice/choose or I'll choose for you

not now/Sirius said/and ran on

Sirius ran up slab stone stairs embedded into the side of a cliff/sea spray curled around his head/sea spray settled in his lungs/the air was sharp and salty/with the smell of dead things/living things/an ocean under a starry night/nebulas spinning through the sky/feet thudding on wet slick stone/stone crusted with thick white salt/white like purity/white like lies

there/Andy/walking down the steps/walking down the cliff/walking away from Sirius/holding something to her chest/he met her eyes/she smiled/ruefully

come with me/he said

my daughter/she replied/and walked on

Sirius ran on/eyes stinging with salt/there/there/Cissy there/holding something to her chest/walking down a path like Regulus' path/a path across the cliff face/dangerously close to the vicious waves/the breaking waves/the waves that tore and ate/he called out to her/holding out a hand/she turned and met his eyes

come with me/he said

my son/she replied/and walked on

Sirius ran on/ran on/feet thudding on wet slick stone/so easy/so easy to slip/lungs burning/looking for/looking for something/looking for what

Sirius ran up slab stone stairs embedded into the side of a tower/sunlight curled around his head/heat settled in his lungs/the air was strong and shaking/with the smell of iron and stone/a prison in the middle of nowhere/clouds hanging in the sky/stairs winding around the tower/up/up/up/until he reached a door/a red door/red as cherry popsicles/red as well-aged wine/red as arterial blood/a knocker like a lion's head/Sirius knocked and waited and waited

but he was done with waiting—

he put his shoulder to the door and pushed/pushed with all his might/the door swung open/James stood at the window/his back to Sirius

James turned/Sirius recoiled/James's mouth was red/red/red/red like arterial blood/red like the door with the lion's head/James laughed/smiled/wholly at his ease/held up a cherry popsicle/half-eaten/dripping red/James flung it away/wiped at his mouth/but only managed to smear the red/red like well-aged wine/red like arterial blood

catch me/James said

Sirius laughed/I have/you're here

no/James said/I'm not

and he was gone/the curtains fluttered at his passage/Sirius threw himself at the window/looked down/nothing there except James/running down a dusty road/Sirius cursed/slapped a hand down on the hot stone windowsill/hurdled over it/hurled himself over to follow James

falling/falling/then impact/rattling his teeth/jarring his spine/no more than a moment to compose himself/he had to follow James

Sirius ran down a wide dirt road lined with tall leafy trees/sweat curled around his head/dust settled in his lungs/the air was dry and cool/with the smell of water and shadow/a road in the middle of a forest/leading to nowhere in particular/dark clouds lurking in the sky/at the edge of the sky/James ran before him/just within his sight/running pell-mell/headlong/recklessly/like he always did

James/Sirius shrieked/James wait for me

catch me/James screamed back/Sirius barely heard him over the blood pounding in his ears/his feet pounding at the road/the breaths pounding in his lungs

James ran past meadows/streams/burnt-out factories/hills pocked with bomb craters and littered with shells/houses still and empty with their doors swung open on rusty hinges/cataracts and straining dams/all the while running hard/Sirius couldn't catch him

James ran into a town/silent and haunted/shop signs swinging on broken hinges/windows shattered and gaping open/James ran past it all/Sirius ran behind him/always behind him/the dark clouds were overhead now/rain hit dry-baked earth like wishes/like curses/like regrets/rain made mud in Sirius' eyes/under Sirius's feet/Sirius ran on/ran on/feet thudding on wet slick earth/so easy/so easy to slip/lungs burning/running after James/always running after James

running toward a house on a hill/old and imposing/paint peeling off the siding/gargoyles standing sentinel at their spouts/Sirius ran on/ran on/trying to catch James over wet slick earth/so easy/so easy to slip

he slipped

James darted ahead/up the slab stone stairs embedded in the side of the hill/layered with mud and rain water/he ran up the steep stairs/he disappeared behind the door/Sirius scrambled to pick himself up/scrabbled in the mud to find his footing/ran head-down/arms pumping at his sides

Sirius ran up slab stone stairs embedded into the side of a hill/rain soaked his head/rain settled in his lungs/the air was heavy and dull/with the smell of river water/clay and mud/a ghost town on a hillside/running up broad gray stairs/slabs of stone half-buried in the earth/overgrown with moss and peat/mottled and smooth with age/up/up/up/until he reached a door/a green door/green as peat bogs/where bodies are sunk and hidden/green as forests or jungle pools/green as putrid jealousy/green as Lily's eyes/a knocker like a serpent's mouth/Sirius knocked and waited and waited

but he was done with waiting—

he put his shoulder to the door and pushed/pushed with all his might/the door swung open

James did not stand there/Bellatrix did

Bellatrix/eyes like coals or tortured fireflies/bloodless mouth and bloodied hands/James lay still behind her/motionless and breathless on the floor behind her/James lay on the floor behind her/in a pool of red/red as the red on his mouth/red as well-aged wine/red as arterial blood

Sirius screamed

Bellatrix reached out to Sirius/reached out to where he stood/Bellatrix shoved him hard in the chest/hit him with her bloody hands/shoved him off balance over the steps/he fell backwards/always falling/but this time he did not land, he just kept falling, falling, falling—

Sirius Black fell through the Veil, and then he woke up.


End file.
